


Rediscovery

by ScottWashburn



Category: Vorkosigan Saga - Lois McMaster Bujold
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-11
Updated: 2012-05-11
Packaged: 2017-11-05 04:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 73,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/402371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScottWashburn/pseuds/ScottWashburn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After being isolated for centuries, Barrayar was rediscovered by the outside universe. But who rediscovered them? And what were the consequences? Read and find out!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Section 1

 

 

 

 

Rediscovery

 

 

A Vorkosiverse Fan Fiction

By Scott Washburn

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This story includes characters and settings created by Lois McMaster Bujold and are used without her permission or knowledge.

 

 

Chapter 1

 

 

 

**S** heela Lahn looked over her calculation for the hundredth time and then leaned back in her chair at the navigation station of the jumpship _Fool’s Luck_ and nodded at the ship’s skipper. “This is as good as it’s gonna get, Tam. Either we jump with these figures or we go back home.”

 

Tam Hodgkins frowned and looked at their pilot. “What do you think, Danno?”

 

The jump pilot shrugged. “Like she said: either we go ahead or we go home. There’s no doubt that there’s a wormhole out there. But there’s no way to tell where it goes or if we’ll be able to get back—except by trying. Those bastards in the Betan Survey might use a lot of fancy talk about their scans and calculations, but it still always come down to giving it a try and hoping you survive. No easy way to do this, Chief. But I’m game if you are. Gonna lose the _Fool_ if we go back to Komarr empty-handed anyway.”

 

Tam scratched at his beard the way he always did while thinking and then sat up straighter in his chair. “All right. Let’s do it.”

 

Sheela tapped the arm of her chair nervously. How the hell did she ever get into a mess like this? In a few minutes she could be rich beyond her wildest dreams or her atoms could be strewn across light years of space. _You know exactly how you got here, girl! You’ve got no one to blame but yourself!_

 

She was an astrophysicist, not an explorer, damn it! She’d graduated with honors from Solstice University. Her dissertation, _An Alternate Approach to Correlating Wormhole Stability with Stellar Motion_ , had been widely praised. Some very prestigious institutions had been looking at her seriously. The future had seemed bright. And then it had all gone to hell. She’d been accused of plagiarism. _Plagiarism!_ The ultimate sin in scientific research! An investigation had shown that while she was innocent of the charge, her advisor—a man she had liked and trusted—who had given her important pieces of her thesis, had himself ‘borrowed’ them from someone else—and she hadn’t noticed it. It was a major embarrassment and even though she had been exonerated of deliberate wrongdoing, suddenly the prestigious job offers had evaporated. No one wanted to touch her. It was looking like she’d end up teaching high school physics in one of Komarr’s domes.

 

Then she had met Tam Hodgkins. Or rather, he had sought her out. Hodgkins was the captain and owner of a small jumpship. He was also… an eccentric. Her initial impression had suggested a half-dozen far less flattering adjectives, but eventually she’d settled on _eccentric_. A quarter century earlier he had inherited a fortune and decided to pursue his dream of becoming a bold explorer. Sheela had done some checking and found he’d applied to the Betan Astronomical Survey a dozen times in his youth and been rejected every time—he wasn’t even remotely qualified. But when he acquired the means, he decided to go into the exploration business on his own. He’d spent the next twenty years squandering his money on fruitless searches for new wormhole routes, hopefully leading to new Earth-like planets, all over the wormhole nexus. He hadn’t found any. He had discovered and explored a couple of new wormholes—a fairly amazing accomplishment for an amateur, actually—but they hadn’t led anywhere worthwhile.

 

Finally, deeply in debt, he’d returned to Komarr and become obsessed with his home planet’s own set of wormholes. Komarr had six wormhole exits—an unusually high number. Two of them were very important. They led to Pol and Rho Ceta and were Komarr’s connection to the outside galaxy. The other four led nowhere. One dead-ended in a system with a useless red dwarf star and the other three dead-ended in deep space. Worthless.

 

But it hadn’t always been that way.

 

Four hundred  and fifty standard years earlier one of those wormholes had led to the important world of Escobar. Another had led to an Earthlike planet in system GC2385-653H. A third had connected to another useless system, but initial surveys had indicated there might be additional wormholes there which might lead somewhere else.

 

But then something happened. It wasn’t well-understood at the time, but the motion of the stars in Komarr’s neighborhood had shifted the gravitational equilibrium that created wormholes and some of the established routes had collapsed or shifted. The route to Escobar vanished and the one to newly colonized GC2385-653H (it hadn’t even been given a name yet) was lost. A new equilibrium established itself and Komarr settled down to having two useful wormhole routes for the next four centuries.

 

But recent observations and Sheela’s own theories indicated that the equilibrium was shifting again. The evidence wasn’t solid enough to attract the big names in exploration like the Betan Astronomical Survey—at least not yet. But Tam Hodgkins was convinced that his great opportunity had finally arrived and he was determined that no one else was going to beat him to the big discovery. With his ship and Sheela’s calculations, they would succeed!

 

The scheme was crazy—and she’d told him so. His ship didn’t have the right equipment for wormhole mapping! She was amazed that he was still alive.

 

“Sheela, give me those figures of yours,” said Hodgkins. “Danno, get ready to jump.” He touched the intercom and spoke to the chief engineer in the reactor room. “Ian? We’re going to need full power in about ten minutes.”

 

“Right, Skipper,” came the reply. “We really gonna do this?”

 

“Sure are,” said Tam with a grin. “Figured out how you’ll spend your share yet?”

 

“Got a few things on the list, yeah.”

 

Despite Tam’s many shortcomings, he had a certain charisma. A wild-eyed enthusiasm which was strangely contagious. _I caught it, didn’t I?_ Somehow he’d convinced her to go. His crew, some of whom had been with him from the beginning, were similarly infected.

 

“You going to tell the Weasel what we’re up to?” asked Danno Keller.

 

“Yeah, I suppose we should,” sighed Tam. He touched the intercom again. “Mr. Weitzl? We’re preparing to make the jump.”

 

“I’ll be right there,” came the reply and all too quickly the unpleasant little man was on the bridge. In order to finance this expedition Tam had been forced to take on a number of partners. Mr. Weitzl was their observer and there were times when it was evident that he thought he was in charge. Sheela didn’t even know if the man had a first name. The rest of the crew just called him ‘The Weasel’ and it seemed singularly appropriate. “This is it?” he demanded. “This jump will take us to Escobar?”

 

“We’re hoping so,” said Tam. He glanced in her direction and Weitzl turned to face her.

 

“I-I can’t guarantee anything,” she stuttered. “The first two jumps out from Komarr were exactly where they’ve always been.  The third was subtly altered and so was the one that brought us here. It’s not quite where the records show the original jump was. The jump we’re about to make might take us to Escobar, but it might take us somewhere else. But there’s no doubt that this is a new wormhole caused by the realignment of the stars. My thesis seems to be holding up.” _Sort of…_

 

“I—and the people I represent—don’t give a damn about your thesis, Ms. Lahn,” replied Weitzl coldly. “But a reopened route to Escobar could be worth billions.” He turned back to Tam. “How soon?”

 

The Skipper shrugged. “We’re charging the capacitors for the Necklin Rods right now. As soon as they’re ready—another five minutes—it will be up to Danno.” He nodded to where the jump pilot was attaching the leads to his neural interface.

 

This seemed to satisfy Weitzl who took up a stance with his arms crossed and stared at the computer displays. Sheela looked at Tam, but he just raised an eyebrow and turned back to his own console.

 

She chewed on her lower lip and told herself that she hadn’t _technically_ lied to Weitzl. Although she cursed herself for using the word ‘subtly’ to describe the alteration in the last jump. It was true enough for the third jump, the changes there had been distinct, but still fairly minor, but this last one was radically altered. Not even close to where the old one used to be. She didn’t know where the next jump was going to take them but she seriously doubted it would be Escobar.

 

_But it will take us somewhere. Maybe it will be somewhere interesting._

 

And that was why she was out here: to find interesting new places. That was what had driven Tam all these years. She’d told him of her conclusions after the last jump—a week ago—and he’d just shrugged and told her not to tell anyone else. “So what if it’s not Escobar?” he’d said. “I’ve been to Escobar. I’m hoping it will lead to some green new world, better than Old Earth ever was. A world where we can walk around in our shirt sleeves with no breath mask. A place our people can move to and forget about trying to terraform Komarr. That’s my dream Sheela. One of them, anyway.”

 

So she’d kept her mouth shut and looked at the scanners and her navigation computer until her eyes burned and her head ached. And now they were ready to give it a try. A completely new and unexplored wormhole jump. There was a good chance it would kill them. But if it didn’t…

 

The engineer called to say that everything was ready at his end. Danno, his head seemingly sprouting wires and cables, said that he was ready, too. Tam was definitely shifting into his manic-mode. “All right, everyone! This is it! Stand by for fame and fortune!” He flipped a switch. “Okay, Danno, she’s all yours! Take us through!”

 

The jump pilot nodded and flipped a few switches of his own and then became utterly motionless, his eyes closed. Sheela stared at the man. From a purely scientific viewpoint she knew what he was about to do, but she had no idea _how_ he was going to do it. Somehow Danno was going to guide the ship through the wormhole to the other end. He would do something with his human brain that no computer, no matter how sophisticated, could duplicate. She’d talked to him about it, but he just said that all he did was to ‘keep the _Fool_ from scraping her paint on the sides of the tunnel’.  What he really did was still a mystery to her. Maybe there just wasn’t any way to describe a five-dimensional event with three-dimensional words. But whatever Danno did, Sheela hoped that he would do it _really_ well now!

 

Tam was monitoring Danno’s activity from his own console and he silently mouthed: _Thirty seconds._ The jump pilot had told her that they could shout or blow whistles in his ear at this point and he never would have noticed, but everyone just automatically got quiet before a jump.

 

Thirty seconds… twenty… ten… five…

 

They jumped.

 

Sheela felt that brief twinge of disorientation and nausea and gasped in relief. You could only be sick to your stomach if you were _alive_. They had made it! But to where?

 

Danno made that strange grunting noise that he made after every jump, shook his head and slowly began disconnecting the wires and cables. Tam was already studying the read-outs from his controls and Sheela started to do the same. The first task was to find the nearby stars and try to identify them by their spectral class. Stars were like fingerprints: if you knew what to look for, each one was unique. She activated the ship’s telescope and started typing in the instructions for a full-sky survey. But before she was even halfway done, Tam announced:

 

“Well, this isn’t Escobar.”

 

“How do you know?” demanded Weitzl, He was scowling even more than he usually did.

 

“All the normal com channels are silent. Unless everyone on the planet and everyone else in space decided to turn off all their electronics just to play a trick on us, this can’t be Escobar.”

 

“Then where are we?”

 

“May take a while to figure that out. Sheela? Any clues so far?”

 

Sheela snorted. “Give me a few minutes, will you?” _Or a few hours. Or a few days if we’re somewhere really far off the beaten track._ She finished with the instruction and let the telescope do its work. Weitzl was pacing around the small bridge, wringing his hands. Danno got a cup of coffee and slumped back into his chair.

 

She watched what the ‘scope was doing, but anticipated a long wait. She was therefore surprised when after just a few minutes the computer announced it had found something of interest. Her eyebrows shot up when she saw what it was. “Okay, we have definitely arrived _somewhere_ , folks! We have a nice, bright F8 star less than two AU away. We are in a solar system and not in deep space!”

 

“Halleluiah!” said Tam eagerly. “Any planets?”

 

“Too soon to tell. Still looking for more close stars,” said Sheela distractedly. “Let me see if that F8 is in our catalogue…”

 

It was.

 

“Well, well, well…” she said, rocking back in her chair. “Tam, you said there was nothing on any of the com channels? What about the other common EM bands?”

 

“No, not a thing. The star’s putting out a lot of hard radiation, but there’s none of the usual stuff you’d see with a high-energy civilization. Come on, Sheela, give! Where are we?”

 

“It would appear…” she paused dramatically, “that we’ve rediscovered the jump route to GC2385-653H.”

 

“What?” cried Tam, Danno and Weitzl simultaneously.

 

“And apparently the colony that was planted here before the wormholes shifted must have failed. Not surprising, really.”

 

“It was Earth-like wasn’t it?” demanded Tam.

 

“Somewhat Earth-like, if the old records are accurate. Breathable atmosphere, but the plant life was primitive and the animal life restricted to some very rudimentary insects and microbes. It was going to take a lot of terraforming—well, nothing like on Komarr, but still a lot.”

 

“Then it’s all ours,” whispered Tam. “A whole colonizable world—ours!”

 

“Don’t start calling it _Hodgkin’s Planet_ yet, Chief,” grinned Danno. “A lot of folks gotta piece of this pie now.”

 

“Indeed they have,” said Weitzl. “So where is this planet? Can we take a look at it? Did it have any worthwhile resources? Mineral deposits?”

 

Sheela called up what records she had on her computer and scanned over them. “Tam, here’s the orbital coordinates. I’ve cancelled the sky-search with the ‘scope. Maybe you can locate the planet and plot an approach. As for resources on the planet… nothing unusual, I’m afraid, Mr. Weitzl. The initial surveys indicated a pretty Earth-like distribution of elements. There’s probably gold, platinum and uranium there, but I doubt it’s neatly stacked in piles on the surface for you to pick up.”

 

“Oh forget the damn minerals,” said Tam in exasperation. “It’s a planet! A planet people can live on! That’s worth more than if it was made of solid gold!”

 

“But not so easily converted to cash,” countered Weitzl. “A trade route to Escobar could have easily charged tolls to the ships. Selling colonization rights will be a lot more complicated. Could be years before we see a real return…”

 

“Well, if you want to sell off your shares, we’ll be glad to buy you out,” said Danno. “I’ve got… just a sec… twenty-seven dollars and… thirty eight cents—Betan! Deal?”

 

Weitzl snorted and turned away.

 

“I’ll take that as a yes. So let’s see, one planet, divided eight ways is…”

 

“Got it!” cried Tam, squinting at his console. “Right where the figures said it should be, Sheela. It’s about a third of the way around the primary from where we are. Time to orbit from here is about… sixty-three hours.”

 

“Well let’s get going!” said Danno. “I want to stake out my claim!”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Arkadi Kurzov watched his young charge with an anxious eye as the lad brought his horse to a full gallop and leveled his lance. The boy’s target was a small ring dangling by a thread from a wooden beam that jutted out above the practice run. With a joyful whoop, he thrust the lance-point through the tiny ring as he flashed past.

 

“I did it!” he cried as he reined in his horse and trotted back. “Arkadi, I did it!”

 

“Indeed you did. And without falling off and nearly breaking your fool neck like last time.”

 

“That was an accident,” said the boy, some of the elation draining from his face.

 

“Well, I should hope so! I’d hate to think you did that on purpose! You scared me out of ten year’s growth. Of course knowing you, maybe you did do it on purpose, just to spite old Arkadi.”

 

“I did no such thing! And you are not old! My father is much older and he’s not so old, either.” The boy frowned and lowered the lance point so that the ring slid off into Arkadi’s hand. “And in any case, I did it today and I didn’t fall off!”

 

“Yes you did and no you didn’t, and you did and didn’t very well, my lord.” Indeed, it had been well done. A grown man could rightly take satisfaction in the deed, let alone a ten-year old.

 

“In a few more years I shall be an ensign in the Emperor’s lancers!”

 

“Ah, but as an officer you won’t carry a lance. Indeed, I’ve heard it said that the lancers may soon get rid of their lances and carry the new magazine rifles instead.”

 

“But they look so fine with their lances!” protested the boy. “The blue and red pennants are so splendid!”

 

“Well, they’ll probably keep them to use in parades,” conceded Arkadi.

 

“I do hope Father will allow you to come along as my batman when I go,” said the boy. “I should miss you a great deal.”

 

“We shall see. That is a few years down the road, my lord.” Arkadi was touched by the boy’s statement. In truth, he would miss the lad, too, if they were separated. Fortunately, that didn’t seem likely to happen at least for a few years. The Count seemed happy with the way his son was being trained and guarded and that was what mattered. “But,” he continued, “speaking of rifles, let’s have a go at the range, shall we? Before it gets dark.”

 

“Yes!” cried the boy. He handed his horse and his lance off to a groom and repossessed the target ring from Arkadi and ran ahead with all the energy of youth.  Arkadi sighed and followed, wishing that he had some of that energy. But the boy had been cooped up with his tutors all week and it was only natural that he’d want a chance to play now.

 

The rifle range was down by the Long Lake and the path to it led past the old barracks building. Twenty years earlier, when Arkadi was about the same age as the boy was now, the reigning emperor, Dorca Vorbarra, had finally crushed the last of the rebellious counts and secured imperial dominance by outlawing the counts’ private armies. The counts were limited now to just a tiny bodyguard of twenty men. The barracks, which had once housed two whole companies, had been nearly vacant for decades and had a sad and dilapidated look to it. Native damnweed was creeping up the walls in several spots. It was mostly used for storage these days. All the Count’s armsmen, including Arkadi, lived with him in the castle atop the hill when they were here in Vorkosigan Surleau. Which wasn’t all that often anymore; they seemed to spend most of their time in the capital at Vorbarr Sultana these days.

 

He reached the range and saw that the boy was excitedly showing the target ring to one of the servants, Boris Dakman, and boasting of his feat. Boris was smiling and nodding. Arkadi took out his keys and unlocked the weapons cabinet in the shed next to the range. He took out two weapons, a long infantry rifle for himself and a smaller cavalry carbine for the boy. He leaned them against the wall while he opened a drawer that held the ammunition.

 

“I shall be a lancer, Boris!” cried the boy. “One of the Emperor’s lancers! Even if I use a rifle instead of a lance!” Before Arkadi could stop him, he grabbed the carbine and swung it around. Boris flinched back as the weapon pointed in his direction.

 

“Piotr!” shouted Arkadi. “Piotr Vorkosigan!” He lunged and snatched the gun out of the startled hands of the Count’s son. The boy’s face flushed crimson with anger for an instant and then drained of color as he realized what he had done. Arkadi towered over him and stared down. “What is the first rule, my lord?” asked Arkadi in a calmer voice.

 

“T-to treat every weapon as if it is loaded.”

 

“And you forgot that just now didn’t you?”

 

“Yes, sir. But…”

 

“No buts. You can be right a thousand times and no one will give it a thought. But you only need to be wrong once. Just once, and Ma Dakman would be a widow and your friend, young Daren, wouldn’t have a father.” Piotr glanced at Boris and blushed.

 

“I’m sorry. I apologize to you, Armsman, and to you, Mr. Dakman. It won’t happen again.”

 

“No, I don’t imagine it will,” said Arkadi. “Now, let’s do some shooting.” He handed the carbine back to the boy who held it properly with the muzzle pointed at the ground.

 

They shot until it got too dark to see the targets. The boy really was a fine marksman and had the self-discipline to become a truly excellent one. Despite his earlier lapse, the boy was amazingly mature for his age. Someday he would be a fine count.

 

They put away the weapons and then walked toward where the grooms had their horses waiting. They had to get back to the castle and get cleaned up for dinner. As they walked Arkadi glanced up and saw a bright spark crossing the sky. “Look, my lord, a shooting star! Make a wish!”

 

Piotr looked up and then closed his eyes for a moment.

 

“What did you wish for, my lord?”

 

“Oh, I can’t tell you that!” he laughed and then skipped ahead toward the horses.

 

Arkadi smiled, but his eyes were drawn upward again. The shooting star was still there. Odd, they usually disappeared immediately. And they usually moved much faster than this one. It crawled across the sky and slowly faded from view. Strange. But Piotr was already mounted and he put it out of his mind and mounted his own horse.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Orbit is stable,” announced Tam Hodgkins. He flipped a switch on his console. “Ian? Secure the drive, we’re here.”

 

“Right, Chief,” came the reply. “So when do we get to go down and take a walk? I need to stretch my legs.”

 

“Oh, in a few days. We need to take a look and find a good spot, right Sheela?” He looked towards her and she nodded nervously. _My God, what am I going to tell him?_ It had taken three days for _Fool’s Luck_ to make orbit and Sheela had spent most of that time with her eyes glued to her instruments. She wasn’t a planetologist, but she was the nearest thing to one aboard and it had fallen to her to study their prize.

 

At first things had looked good; the readings nearly matched the old records. A planet a little smaller, but a little denser than Old Earth, so the gravity was just a bit higher than one standard gee. The atmosphere was primarily nitrogen with an oxygen content a little less than standard but well within the breathable range. The planet looked blue and brown and white in her ‘scope with a touch of redder areas. The records said that the native plant life was mostly red and brown.

 

But there were a few oddities in her readings, too. The oxygen levels were a tiny bit higher than the old records and the carbon dioxide readings significantly higher—almost a quarter of a percent. What could have caused that? And as they got closer the images started to show patches of green here and there when she could find areas not obscured by clouds. There shouldn’t be any green…

 

“How dangerous are those radiation levels you mentioned?” demanded Mr. Weitzl. “And what’s causing them?”

 

“The sun’s causing most of them,” said Tam. “An F8 star is pretty energetic and the planet has a weak magnetic field. More radiation gets through than is healthy for long-term exposure. But for a short visit there’s no danger to us.”

 

“But what about for colonists? How can we sell colonization rights to a dangerous planet?”

 

“Oh, I meant it was unhealthy if you don’t have proper medical treatment!” said Tam, waving his hand dismissively. “The only danger is an increased long-term cancer risk and possible genetic damage in children. With up-to-date galactic medicine available, both of those risks can be eliminated. Nothing to worry about.”

 

“But that’s probably one of the reasons why the first colony failed,” said Danno. “They didn’t have a chance to get things set up properly before they were cut off. Right, Sheela?”

 

Sheela’s heart was pounding and she bit her lip. _Now or never…_

 

“Uh, Tam? Danno?”

 

“What?”

 

“The uh… the first colony didn’t fail.”

 

_“What?”_ Three voices shouted at her simultaneously and she flinched.

 

“There are people down there. A lot of people.”

 

Weitzl gave an exasperated snarl and turned away. Tam goggled at her. “You… you’re sure?”

 

“Yes,” she replied, shaking her head. “I started to suspect it yesterday. The elevated oxygen and CO2 levels, the green patches. But now that we’re in orbit, there’s no doubt. Look.” She punched up an image on her console and then transferred it to the main display. It showed a river and on each bank there were objects that were clearly buildings. Roads stretched away in a number of directions.

 

“Oh my god,” moaned Tam. Sheela zoomed in and the structures became more distinct. Closer yet and strange vehicles could be seen on the roads, although their nature and mode of propulsion could not be determined. Smaller specks that were almost certainly people.

 

“This is the biggest city I’ve spotted so far,” said Sheela. “But there are dozens of other towns. And hundreds of villages. Lots of cultivated land and Earth-type forests. Population has got to be in the millions, I’d think.”

 

“But… but there wasn’t anything on any of the com channels!” protested Tam. “No high-energy emissions at all!”

 

“It would appear that the colony backslid, lost most of its technology. But not all. Take a look at this:” She called up another image. A long row of boxy objects were strung one behind the other. One of them at the end was spewing out a trail of smoke.

 

“What’s that?” asked Danno.

 

“I believe it’s one of these.” Sheela split the image and a picture of a strange vehicle appeared. “A steam-powered locomotive,” she explained. “They run on metal tracks. Kind of like a monorail. And I’ve picked up some very faint electrical emissions. Possible some sort of wire-carried telegraphic device.”

 

“So they aren’t completely primitive,” said Weitzl, an odd expression on his face.

 

“No,” replied Sheela. “They have roads, factories, mines, ships. Early industrialization. I was puzzled by the elevated CO2 levels, but I’ve seen hundreds of chimneys billowing out smoke in this city alone. There’s evidence of slash-and-burn agriculture going on, too. I would imagine they have firearms and enough science that they won’t fall on the ground and worship us as gods, if that’s what you were thinking.”

 

“How do you suppose they dealt with the radiation hazard?” asked Danno.

 

Sheela shrugged. “Lacking modern medicine, life-spans are probably a lot shorter. The cancer problem might only occur in the very old. There would probably be a lot of birth defects in the children. Not sure how they deal with that.”

 

“I guess we’ll have to ask them,” said Danno.

 

“Go down there?” snapped Weitzl. “What for? This is a complete bust, Captain! A wasted trip! My superiors are not going to be pleased.”

 

“You can tell your superiors to go…” started Danno.

 

“This is not a bust!” cried Tam. “We’ve contacted a lost colony! Given them access to the rest of the galaxy again! And large portions of this planet must still be unsettled, right, Sheela?”

 

She nodded. “Oh yes, the settlements seem widely scattered and the big continent in the southern hemisphere only has a few small towns along the northern coast. Of course it’s mostly unterraformed land…”

 

“So what?” countered Weitzl. “Our people aren’t going to be interested in coexisting—or competing—with a bunch of savages!”

 

“The locals _might_ tend to get pissed if we start divvying up their planet, yeah,” said Danno.

 

“But they probably have things to trade!” persisted Tam. “Ships will be coming here, even if they’re only carrying anthropologists to study this society. Your bosses can levy tolls on _them_!”

 

“Hmmph!” snorted Weitzl. “The decision will be up to them, of course. I suggest we return to Komarr at once.”

 

“Without landing? Not a chance! I’m still the captain of this ship and I’m in charge!”

 

“For the moment,” conceded Weitzl. “But I trust you won’t waste too much more of our time.”

 

 

Chapter 2

 

 

 

Lord Piotr Vorkosigan guided his horse down the trail and tried to ignore the endless prattle of his tutor, Professor Vorserran. The man certainly knew a lot of things, but he seemed to have an obsessive need to spew them all out in a continuous stream. Why couldn’t he just shut up for a while? For that matter, why couldn’t he have stayed back at the castle? Piotr had hoped he would stay behind when this expedition through the mountains had been announced. His father, the Count, had decided to make a trip to visit some of the local communities in the Dendarii Mountains. It would mean a lot of riding and quite a bit of camping out since roads were few and the villages widely scattered. Piotr was thrilled, since he loved to ride and to camp out. The chance to spend some time with his busy father was not to be missed either.

 

Unfortunately, at the last minute his father had been called back to Vorbarr Sultana. Piotr was proud that his father was one of the Emperor’s most trusted advisors, but it meant that things like this happened all too often. But his father commanded that the trip through the mountains would go on anyway. So, after saying goodbye at the train station, the cavalcade—over twenty people in all—had set out into the mountains. One of his father’s trusted liegemen, Weston Vorpeter, was in actual command, but to Piotr’s delight, his father had made him the Count’s Voice. In theory, that gave him all his father’s powers, but a stern talking to had impressed the fact that he must defer to the judgment of his elders in all important matters. Even so, it had been thrilling to be treated by all the hillsmen as though he was an adult. An important adult. Vorpeter had reminded him a number of times that these would someday be his people.

 

“Oh look there,” said Vorserran, pointing off to the side of the trail. “There’s a patch of stingweed. See the ochre stripes on the leaves? Don’t ever let it touch you! It will cause a burning rash that will last for days!”

 

Piotr rolled his eyes. Anyone who spent any time at all outdoors in these regions knew about stingweed! The Professor was a city-bred man and he treated the outdoors like unexplored wilderness.

 

They topped a rise and several of the men cried out in relief. Vorkosigan Surleau was spread out below them. They had been gone two weeks and even Piotr was glad to be back. Their path took them down through the village and then to the stables by the old barracks. They weren’t going to force their tired beasts to carry them back up the mountain to the castle. They’d get fresh horses for that trip. He was anxious to see mother again—he hoped she hadn’t gotten bored and followed father to the capital while they were gone. But perhaps father was back.

 

He was helping a groom transfer his saddlebags to a fresh mount when all the horses suddenly became agitated. They stiffened, their ears shot up, and some began to snort or whiney in alarm. Everyone looked around and Arkadi and the other two armsmen had their hands on their pistols, but they could see nothing to cause the horses to act that way.

 

After a moment Piotr winced as something seemed to shoot right through his head, a high-pitched whistle unlike anything he’d ever heard before. “What’s that?” he cried.

 

“What’s what?” demanded Arkadi.

 

“That noise!” Piotr put his hands over his ears, but it didn’t really make any difference.

 

“I don’t hear anyth… oh, now I do…” The whistle was toning down a bit and was no longer painful, but it was growing louder. “What is that?”

 

“Not the train whistle, surely,” said Vorserran, wiggling a finger in one ear.

 

“It’s coming from off to the west, I think,” said Vorpeter.

 

“Hard to tell with all the hills around,” said Arkadi who was looking this way and that, his hand still on the butt of his pistol.

 

“Look! Look there!” cried one of the grooms, pointing. They all turned and Piotr gasped. A large silvery object was flying above the hills to the southwest. Flying!

 

“What is that?” shouted a dozen voices.

 

“It’s coming this way!” exclaimed Arkadi. “Get to cover! My lord, over here!” The armsman grabbed Piotr and hustled him into the stables. Everyone else was scattering and a number of the horses broke loose and galloped off.

 

Arkadi tried to hold him back, but Piotr squirmed free of his grasp and went to one of the windows. The flying thing was much closer now and the noise was so loud it was hard to hear anything else. It drifted over the lake and sprays of water were thrown up underneath it. Slower, lower, closer, it came. Arkadi now had the rifle from his saddle and was pointing it toward the thing. Several of the other men had guns as well. “We should get you away from here, my lord.”

 

“No! I want to see!”

 

“It might be dangerous!”

 

“It can fly faster than we can run! And I have the right to see! I must give a full report to the Count, my father!”

 

“Very well! But stay under cover until we find out what this is!” They were both shouting to be heard above the noise.

 

The thing was over the shore now and it kicked up dust the way it had water. It slowed to almost a complete halt, just a few hundred yards away and then slowly, slowly descended to the ground. It touched down and the horrible noise began to fade. After a minute a ringing silence filled the valley.

 

They stared for several minutes, but nothing else happened. Piotr studied the thing. It appeared to be made of polished metal, like the helmets the Emperor’s Lifeguards wore. But it was as big as a railway carriage—bigger. It was shaped like… what? Nothing he’d ever seen. Narrow and pointed at one end and much broader at the other end. The air seemed to shimmer above the broad end, like the heat coming off a blacksmith’s forge. Was it hot? Why?

 

“Professor Vorserran,” said Vorpeter in a hissing whisper. “Do you have any clue what this thing is?”

 

“I… I’m not sure…” The man looked totally gobsmacked.

 

“For two weeks you tell us about every plant, bird and bug we see and now when you could actually tell us something useful, you say you’re not sure!” snarled Vorpeter in exasperation. “Can you at least make a guess?” Despite his fear Piotr grinned. So he hadn’t been the only one bored by Vorserran’s ramblings!

 

Stung, the scholar drew himself up. “Well! If I had to _guess_ ,” he spat. “I would guess that this is like one of the vessels which brought the Firsters to Barrayar! A… a _space_ vehicle.” Vorpeter’s mouth dropped open. So did everyone elses’.

 

_The Firsters!_ The people who had come from the stars to settle Barrayar! Piotr had heard some of the legends, but he’d never thought for a moment that there was any truth to them. But here the truth was, sitting right in front of him!

 

“But that was hundreds of years ago!” protested Arkadi. “Why… why would they come again after all this time?”

 

“That I couldn’t even guess at,” said Vorserran.

 

“Look! Something’s happening,” cried one of the other armsmen. Every eye jerked back to the thing. A door, or something very like a door, was opening in the side of it! Arkadi aimed his rifle toward it.

 

“Armsman!” exclaimed Vorserran. “You aren’t going to shoot without cause are you? These could be peaceful visitors! I insist you hold your fire!”

 

“Not with the Count’s son at risk,” growled Arkadi.

 

“Lord Vorkosigan! Call off your man! We should defend ourselves, yes, but not shoot without cause or warning!”

 

Piotr looked uneasily between the men and then back toward the strange thing. Someone was emerging from the door. Arkadi stiffened. “Arkadi, hold your fire,” he ordered.

 

“My lord!”

 

“As my father’s Voice, I command you. Wait.”

 

The man hissed in exasperation, but pulled his eye away from the gun-sight. Piotr looked back at where the figure was stepping down from the doorway. Now he stiffened in surprise.

 

“It… it’s a woman!”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sheela took a few hesitant steps away from the shuttle and looked around. Part of her was exulting at being on an alien world—a world she had discovered the way to. But the rest of her was scared as hell. As they had come in to land they’d seen at least forty people around the structures up ahead, but not a one was to be seen now. Had they run off? Or were they laying in ambush? Aiming weapons at her this very moment? Observations from orbit had shown the natives had gunpowder weapons. Would she be cut down by a shower of bullets?

 

 

_Why the hell did I volunteer to go first?_

 

 

In fact, she hadn’t actually volunteered. Tam had insisted on going first until it was pointed out he wasn’t really the planet’s discoverer anyway. From there it had turned into a good, old-fashioned Komarran shareholder’s meeting. Eventually, they decided that since this seemed to be a militaristic society (they’d observed thousands of troops drilling in garrisons all over the continent) that perhaps they wouldn’t consider a woman as threatening as a male. She hadn’t thought until later that perhaps this was a planet filled with Amazonian warriors, but it was too late then, she had the job. Weitzl had argued against any landing at all; go back to Komarr, report their discovery and leave contact to someone better trained and equipped. Even though she’d voted against it at the time, it seemed like a fine idea now.

 

So, she stood at the foot of the shuttle’s ramp and waited to die. Seconds ticked off the longest minute of her life, but nothing happened. The only things moving were a few wandering animals—horses, she thought.

 

“So far so good?” asked Tam through the hatch.

 

“You mean am I still alive? For the moment. No shooting, but no people, either. What now?”

 

“Walk toward the buildings, I guess. They must be in there.”

 

“Alone?”

 

“Uh, Ian and will come out, but you lead the way, all right?”

 

It was most definitely _not_ all right, but there wasn’t much choice. She started forward, very slowly, with her hands open and arms spread slightly.  She’d deliberately worn close-fitting clothing to make her gender as noticeable as her modest figure would allow. She carried no weapons or any other gear that might be mistaken for a weapon. She heard the others debarking behind her, but she didn’t look back at them.

 

The fact that she hadn’t been killed yet lent her a bit of hope and her fear receded. Indeed, the tension in the pit of her stomach was being crowded out by a host of other sensations. A light breeze touched her cheek and ruffled her short hair. It brought a confusion of smells she couldn’t begin to identify. The air of a new world! Every few seconds her hand would come up and try to touch the breath mask that wasn’t there. That was perhaps the oddest sensation: she was outdoors and not wearing a breath mask. Despite centuries of terraforming work, her home of Komarr still could not sustain a human without artificial aids. Every Komarran was trained from childhood in the safety procedures and to be outdoors without a breath mask went against her every instinct. Just being outdoors felt so very odd. Komarrans lived in domed cities and except for the terraforming workers few ever had any reason to leave them. The unbounded sky above her was dizzying. She made the mistake of looking up and she stumbled to a halt and nearly fell.

 

“Sheela, are you all right?” Tam’s voice came to her over the communicator bud in her ear.

 

She stared down at the ground and took a few deep breaths and the vertigo passed. “Yeah, I’m fine,” she said into the tiny microphone attached to her tunic. She forced herself to start walking again.

 

Up ahead were several long, low buildings. One appeared to be for the animals, the horses. It had a lot of big doors, most of them standing open, and she could see a few of the large animals milling around inside or nearby. Beyond was an even larger building, although all of its numerous windows were covered by shutters. In the distance, atop the hill was a stone castle. And honest-to-god castle! Like something out of a fairy tale. Out of sight in a valley beyond was a little town they’d seen from orbit.

 

Their landing site had been picked more-or-less randomly. They’d decided against landing near the big city for fear that there would just be too many people—and too many dangers—to deal with. Especially if their landing caused panic. They wanted somewhere smaller, more isolated, but not _too_ isolated. If the initial contact went well, they wanted to be able to communicate with whoever was in charge. So, they’d traced the railroad lines radiating out from the big city and looked for a smaller town or village but with some evidence of higher authority nearby—like that castle! About a half-dozen possible candidates had presented themselves. None had seemed particularly more suitable than any other, so they’d just chosen one. This one.

 

Sheela walked to within a few dozen paces of the animal-building and stopped. She had seen a few shadowy figures moving around inside. There must be people there. “H-hello? Hello in there? Can we talk? I… we don’t mean you any harm.” She spoke in standard English. What few records she’d been able to find suggested that the original colonists had been a mix of English, Russian, Greek, and French people from Old Earth. She didn’t speak French, Russian or Greek, but even that long ago nearly everyone spoke English. Of course, after 400 years there was no telling how much the language might have changed here in isolation. If they couldn’t communicate she didn’t know what they were going to do.

 

There was no immediate response but she thought she could hear voices from inside the structure. She risked a glance back and saw that Tam and Ian Cummings, the ship’s engineer, had stopped about halfway between her and the shuttle. Weitzl was standing near the lock. She knew that he had a stunner—for all the good it would do her.

 

“Hello! Please come out and talk!” She wasn’t even sure she wanted them to come out and talk. A growing part of her was saying to just turn around and go back to Tam and tell him that no one was home and they could go back to Komarr now. She couldn’t really do that, but by the same token, there was no way she was going to barge into that building by herself.

 

She was on the verge of retreating to the others when she saw motion inside. She froze when three men emerged into the sunlight. Two of them were carrying what were obviously weapons. They didn’t quite point them at her, but they could do so in an instant. Firearms of some sort, she supposed. All three of them wore long daggers on their belts and one of them also had a sword. The one in the middle, the one without a firearm, was old with white hair and an amazing set of sideburns that merged with a thick mustache. He was rather stout and red-faced and something about him reminded her of some of her professors at the University. He had a nervous smile on his lips. The other two weren’t smiling at all. The one on the left, the one with the sword, she would have guessed at being middle-aged, in his sixties, maybe, but without galactic medicine, he might have been much younger. His dark hair was streaked with gray. His face was narrow with a long nose and small mustache. The third one was the youngest. Tall and fair, clean-shaven, with sandy hair, he was well-built and muscular. But his expression was the least friendly of the three. He glanced back toward the building for an instant and gripped his weapon tightly.

 

“Hello?” she said again and tried to smile.

 

“Hello,” answered the old one. “Who are you? Why are you here?” Sheela sighed in relief when she could understand him. There was a thick accent to his English, sort of Russian she guessed, but she could understand what he was saying and that was the important thing.

 

“My name is Sheela Lahn. Me and my friends are explorers. We come from the planet Komarr. We want to be friends with you.”

 

“Why?” snapped the young one.

 

Sheela blinked in confusion. Why what? Why did they want to be friends? Why did they come from Komarr? The first one was easiest so she said: “Being friends is a good thing. We can learn many things from each other. Perhaps we can trade things to our mutual benefit.”

 

“Why do your friends hold back and send you first?” He jerked his weapon as if pointing at the others.

 

“We were not sure how you would receive us. I am the smallest and hopefully the least threatening.”

 

The one with the sword snorted. “They send a woman first? Are all your men such cowards?”

 

The old one looked annoyed. “Lord Vorpeter, we know nothing of these people, we can’t judge them by our standards.”

 

“They’re the only standards I’ve got,” snapped back the man. Then he looked at her, relaxing slightly. “I suppose I should welcome you to this place on behalf of my lord, Count Vorkosigan.” He bowed slightly, but never took his eyes off her.

 

Sheela bowed back, although Komarrans didn’t use such gestures. “Thank you for your welcome, sir. Is… does Count Vor…Vor…”

 

“Vorkosigan,” said all three men in unison.

 

“Count Vorkosigan. Does he administer this world?” She suspected there was some sort of autocracy here, but she couldn’t guess its nature.

 

“My father _rules_ this district!” cried a new voice. Sheela looked past the men and to her surprise a boy emerged from the building. He couldn’t have been more than eight or nine standard years. “This is Vorkosigan District and here his word is law!”

 

“Piotr!” snapped the youngest of the men. “I told you to stay back!”

 

“Pooh! This woman is no danger to me! And if her friends are such cowards then they are no danger, either. As my father’s Voice I should be the one to talk with them.”

 

The one with the sword gave an exasperated sigh whose meaning was apparent in any language. He was about to reply when the old one said:

 

“Perhaps we should all introduce ourselves.” He bowed to her, much lower than the other man. “I am Professor Vorserran, Lady Sheela. And this is Lord Vorkosigan, son of the Count, who is, alas, not here today.”

 

Sheela started at being made a Lady on such short notice, but she nodded to Vorserran—a professor no less! What luck!—and then made a much deeper bow to the boy. “It is indeed an honor to meet you, Lord Vorkosigan. Please forgive our abrupt and unannounced arrival. We did not know any other way to do it.”

 

The boy smiled, but looked at her with a shrewd expression. “The tales say that our ancestors arrived on Barrayar from the stars hundreds and hundreds of years ago. But there were no more visitors ever again after that. Why did you wait so long to come again?”

 

“Ah, that is a complicated question to answer, my lord.” Sheela was amazed at how easy it was to fall into this m’lording routine. Was she some sort of romantic at heart? “To travel between the stars requires a road of sorts. Not a road like you have, but that’s the best way to describe it, I guess. But the roads between the stars can fall prey to natural disasters just as a normal road can. A landslide can carry away a road or a flood wash away a bridge.” They didn’t have landslides or floods on Komarr, but she’d been thinking about how to explain the collapse of the wormholes ever since it was decided to land and make contact with these people. “Soon after your ancestors arrived here a kind of landslide carried away the road. We cannot build new roads, only use roads that are already there, and it took us until now to find another road that led here.”

 

“Why that’s astounding, my lady!” exclaimed Vorserran. “I had always thought—the few times I chanced to think on the subject—that space ships sort of floated on some cosmic aether the way a boat floats on water. But you say that instead they travel on fixed tracks like a train! Who would have thought it!”

 

“Well, something like that…”

 

“Ahem!” The man with the sword cleared his throat noisily and looked peeved. Vorserran twitched.

 

“Oh, pardon me! Lady Sheela, let me present Lord Weston Vorpeter. He is in charge here while the Count is away.”

 

“And this gentleman?” asked Sheela nodding toward the young one.

 

“Arkadi,” growled the man. “Arkadi Kurzov. I’m in charge of this young rapscallion—as much as anyone can be in charge of him.” He jerked his head toward the boy. “And what of your friends? Are they going to come over here or skulk about back there all day?”

 

“I’ll call them forward. Guys, it’s okay, they want to meet you. Come on.”

 

“Okay, we’re coming,” said Tam. “The Weasel’s staying with the shuttle.”

 

“Afraid?” she asked with a smirk.

 

“Maybe. But the wide open spaces have him spooked, I think.”

 

“He’s not the only one,” said Ian.

 

Sheela glanced back and saw Tam and Ian walking toward her. When she looked back at the locals, they were all staring at her wide-eyed. “How… how did you do that?” asked Vorserran.

 

“Oh!” She touched the tiny microphone on her tunic. “We have communications devices that allow us to talk. Like your telegraphs, but with no wires.” They’d spotted what they guessed were telegraph lines strung on poles and apparently they were because Vorserran nodded.

 

“Fascinating!” he exclaimed. “There are stories of such devices, but we have none.”

 

“Would you be willing to sell some to us?” asked Vorpeter, looking very interested.

 

“I’m sure that is possible,” said Sheela. She heard the others approaching behind her. She turned and then made the introductions. To her intense annoyance, the instant the word _captain_ was mentioned in connection with Tam, the locals fixed their attention completely upon him and she found herself almost totally ignored. They talked around her, past her, through her. She regained Professor Vorserran’s attention briefly when she managed to squeeze in the fact that she was a scientist, but even he seemed to treat her statement with skepticism. More of the locals were emerging from their hiding places and not a one of them was female. _Militaristic, male dominated… great._

 

Being the center of attention, Tam was going into his manic mode and he waxed enthusiastically about all the great things that were going to come from future contacts between the natives—who referred to their world as _Barrayar_ , she was going to have to find out why—and the rest of the galaxy. The locals were eating it up.

 

After a while she noticed that there was someone else nearly as annoyed as herself. The boy, the son of the local ruler, was also being excluded from the discussions. She caught his eye and they stared at each other for a few moments and a tiny grin appeared on his face.

 

“Lord Vorpeter!” he suddenly shouted. Everyone stopped talking and turned to look at him. _Nice. Maybe I should try that._

“Yes, my lord?”

 

“We’re standing here in the hay and the dung talking with important visitors. Perhaps they are thirsty and hungry. I know I am.”

 

Vorpeter blushed visibly and then drew himself up. “Of course. You are correct, my lord.” He turned back to Tam. “Would you all honor us by being our guests for dinner at the castle?” He gestured to the imposing structure on the hill.

 

“Of course we would,” said Sheela before Tam could answer. “Let’s go.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

If she’d known that the trip to the castle was by _horse_ she wouldn’t have been so quick to agree.

 

There was a great deal of running around and shouting on the part of the locals and talk of carriages and carts and wagons and various reasons why none were available. The man named Arkadi was especially irritable although it seemed like that was his perpetual state. Finally, a horse was led up to her and she instinctively stepped back. The creature was enormous!

 

“Do you ride, m’lady?” asked the man leading the beast.

 

“No! Until today I’d never even seen a horse in the flesh.”

 

“Indeed? Then how d’you folks get from place t’place? Do all ride in… in things like yonder vehicle?” He jerked his head toward the shuttle.

 

“Those are only for travelling long distances. Like your trains. For shorter distances we have smaller vehicles. And for even shorter, we use our legs, just as you do.” she smiled and the man chuckled.

 

“What’s the problem, Oleg?” snapped Arkadi. “Get her on the horse!”

 

“Yes sir. Uh… here, step up on this box and then put your foot in the stirrup, m’lady… no, your t’other foot. Yes, that’s t’way. Oh dear, wait, you’re wearin’… trousers. Do you normally ride like a man?”

 

“I don’t normally ride at all! What’s the difference?”

 

“Oh, well, a man rides with one leg on each side of the horse…”

 

“Well of course, how else would you do it?” She glanced over where Tam and Ian were already perched precariously atop a pair of these monsters. They each had one leg on either side.

 

“Uh, ladies, because o’ their skirts, you see, don’t… aren’t able to… so they ride with both legs on the same side of the horse…”

 

Sheela eyed the horse skeptically. “Wouldn’t you tend to slide off?”

 

“Well, no, y’see you hook your t’other leg over the pommel, the thing that’s stickin’ out from the top o’ the saddle…”

 

“Oleg!” Arkadi was suddenly there and he seized Sheela with both hands around her waist and hoisted her up in an incredibly powerful grip. He deposited her atop the saddle and she frantically tried to get a foot into the stirrup and grabbed for the pommel-thing, but she missed both and slithered down the side of the horse to land on her backside on the little box Oleg had set there for her to stand on.

 

“Ow!” she cried, staring at him furiously.

 

He stared back, just as furiously. “What’s the matter with you?” he snarled.

 

“Me? What’s the matter with _you_?”

 

“S-sir, she’s never ridden before!” stuttered Oleg. “I-I was tryin’ t’show her how.”

 

“And he was doing a good job until you barged in!” snapped Sheela, getting to her feet. “You say I put my one foot in this stirrup, and then straighten up and hook my other leg over the pommel? Like this?” She did it and was suddenly mounted on the horse! It worked!

 

“Well done, m’lady!” said Oleg. “Here, take the reins. Don’t pull on them yet, just hold them like this.”

 

“Thank you, Oleg. _You’ve_ been very helpful.” She frowned at Arkadi, who departed in a huff.

 

“What is the problem with the man?” she muttered.

 

“Just worried about Lord Vorkosigan, m’lady,” said Oleg quietly. “He’s charged with his protection and he don’t much like surprises like the one you’ve brought us today. Takes his duties right seriously, he does. But it’s nothin’ personal.”

 

“The boy’s very important, I take it?”

 

“Important? Yes m’lady! Heir to the countship and all!”

 

“And a count is important?”

 

“Only one more important is the Emperor himself!”

 

“The Emperor, he admin… rules Barrayar?”

 

“Tries to. But enough o’ that. Looks like we’re gettin’ ready to move.” Vorpeter and Arkadi were now collecting everyone into a group. A man on horseback came over to her and took the reins of her horse.

 

“Might be easier if I led you, m’lady,” he explained.

 

“By all means, lead on,” she said with a wave of her hand. “I have no idea how to steer one of these things.” She saw with satisfaction that Tam and Ian were also being led.

 

“Last chance, Weitzl,” Tam was saying in his communicator. “Sure you don’t want to come?”

 

“Quite sure,” came the reply. Sheela could listen on the tiny receiver in her ear. “And once these savages have had you for dinner, you are sure that I can get back to the ship?”

 

Tam snorted. “Won’t be necessary, but yes, Danno can fly the shuttle remotely and get you back to the ship.”

 

“Very well, I shall wait here. Make sure you get information on anything of value they might want to trade.”

 

Tam shrugged and broke the connection. A few moments later they were off. The cavalcade was about a dozen strong and they followed an unpaved road that went from the stables until it met a larger, but equally unpaved road that connected the village with the castle on the hill. Sheela clung to the saddle and tried to look around without falling off. It seemed like an awfully long way down to the ground even though she knew it was less than two meters.

 

But the horse appeared docile and it plodded along behind the man leading it with a gentle and not unpleasant rocking motion. Observing the other riders she saw how they moved their own bodies in rhythm with the horses to provide a smooth motion. She tried it and was pleased with the results. Her companions didn’t seem to have the knack and were muttering complaints before they’d gone a hundred meters.

 

On the main road they could ride several abreast and Lord Vorpeter took station next to Tam, leader to leader, and Professor Vorserran rode next to Ian, scholar to engineer, and by default she found herself riding with Lord Vorkosigan and his bodyguard, Arkadi. _Unappreciated female to unmatured future ruler?_ It was obvious that Arkadi didn’t want his charge so close to this potentially dangerous alien, but the boy had other ideas.

 

“So from what your friends have been saying, you didn’t come here looking for us,” he said.

 

“No my lord,” she replied. “We were just exploring, finding new paths between the stars. In truth, we were hoping that the path we were following would lead to Escobar, another civ… er another world we knew about, but which could only be gotten to by a much longer, round-about route. A shorter route would have been very valuable.”

 

“Valuable how?”

 

“Well, it costs money… uh, I assume you have money here.”

 

“Sure! I’ve got five marks in my pocket.” The boy produced a metal disk that she recognized as a coin.  
  


“It costs money to run a starship and it costs less money to go a short path than a long one. A new path from Komarr to Escobar would have cost ship-owners much less to travel and they would have paid tolls to use the shorter route.”

 

“So you were exploring just to make money?” for some reason the boy looked disappointed.

 

“Some of us were. I’m a scientist. I had a new theory on ways to find the paths between stars and I wanted to test out my theory.”

 

“Oh. So you were doing it for the honor rather than the money?”

 

“I guess you could describe it that way. I never really thought about it in those terms, but yes.” _Is that true? Perhaps to regain my lost honor after the plagiarism scandal? What a strange idea!_

 

“That’s good!” said the boy, smiling. “Honor is better than money! Isn’t it, Arkadi?”

 

“Always,  m’lord. Always.” The scowl on his face softened somewhat as he looked at her. “So you K…Komarrans do have honor?”

 

“I suppose we do. I don’t think many of us really think about it in those terms, but we value honesty and fair-dealing. Keeping your word. That sort of thing. I guess that’s honor, isn’t it?”

 

“Part of it,” growled the man and his stern expression returned. “There’s more to it than that, though. What about your lord? You’ve told us nothing about who you serve and what _his_ intentions are.”

 

“Oh dear,” said Sheela, recognizing that this was potentially dangerous ground. This appeared to be a feudal society of some sort. She tried to remember an undergraduate history course she’d once taken about Old Earth. _Personal ties, oaths of loyalty, overlords and subordinates sworn to them, a web of interlocking obligations…_ It had all seemed so complicated and illogical to her. “We don’t… things don’t work that way on Komarr. We don’t really have lords…”

 

“What?” exclaimed Vorkosigan. “Then who makes decisions? Who leads your people? Who commands your armies?”

 

“It’s kind of hard to explain,” said Sheela, desperately trying to think of a way to put it. “We have a senate, a council of… of important people who agree on how things are to be run…”

 

“Like our Council of Counts?” asked Vorkosigan. “To advise the Emperor? But who is your emperor?”

 

“We… uh… we don’t really have one, my lord. Each dome, that’s sort of like a town, has its own council and they send representatives to the planetary senate and they make decisions for the whole planet…”

 

“But who’s in _command_? Who commands the army?”

 

“Well, we don’t really have an army, my lord…”

 

“What! How can that be?” The boy seemed scandalized.

 

“We don’t need one. We’re peaceful. We do have a small navy to protect our merchant ships. Komarr has an awful lot of trade…”

 

“Shopkeepers,” said Arkadi. “You’re a world of shopkeepers, ruled by other shopkeepers.” He snorted in disgust. “I was wrong, m’lord,” he said to the boy. “They are no danger to us at all!” The man spurred his horse and pulled ahead. The act of leaving her alone with Vorkosigan showing his contempt for her more clearly than any words could. The boy eyed her for a moment longer and then did the same.

 

_Great._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Arkadi glanced back as Lord Vorkosigan came up abreast of him. Good. Despite his words, he didn’t want the boy any closer to the alien woman than necessary. His every instinct told him that there was danger here. Maybe not physical danger from this batch of cowards, but danger none the less. Despite the woman’s claims, not all the people out there among the stars could be such cowards. Men were men and the strong would always prey on the weak. And they surely must have weapons! Weapons to match their vehicles and other devices. Arkadi remembered how when he was a child his father had used a flintlock musket and then as he reached adulthood the new percussion rifles were just coming into use. Now they had the magazine rifles with metallic cartridges—dozens of times better than his father’s flintlock! If such improvements could take place in half a lifetime, what sort of weapons must these aliens have? The legends said that when the Firsters arrived on Barrayar they had wondrous devices, but in the disaster that followed the Abandonment most of them were lost and the secret of their making was lost with them. But if the aliens suffered no such disaster… even more wondrous devices must exist. His hand brushed the butt of his pistol and he tried to imagine a weapon a hundred or a thousand times more deadly. His imagination wasn’t up to the task and no specifics appeared, but surely such things must exist.

 

And even in the hands of cowards, weapons like those would pose a danger.

 

_But what of such weapons in the hands of brave men?_

 

The thought comforted him in some strange manner. Shopkeepers and merchants, that’s what these aliens claimed to be. Would they sell weapons? With weapons to match theirs, the aliens would pose far less danger. Yes. Lord Vorpeter was surely thinking along such lines. That’s probably why he was being so courteous to the intruders. There was danger here, but also great opportunity…

 

A rider came down the road from the castle and reported that the Countess was not there. She had, indeed, followed her husband back to the capital. Why none of the grooms at the stable had passed on that vital bit of information Arkadi didn’t know. Probably too startled by the day’s happenings, he supposed. Vorpeter seemed disappointed, but Arkadi was relieved. One less charge to worry about. Yes, the aliens could be contained here until the Count—or the Emperor!—decided what to do about them. Vorpeter had already dispatched a man to the telegraph office in town to send a message to Vorbarr Sultana with the news. He couldn’t imagine how it would be received.

 

_They’ll probably think we broke into the wine cellars and are all roaring drunk._

They reached the crest of the hill and passed through the crumbling and overgrown earthworks that the last count had constructed in a hopeless attempt to protect the old stone castle from modern artillery—before the Emperor had banned such defenses—and clattered across the drawbridge and through the main gates.

 

There were a few grooms and servants waiting for them, but the castle was strangely empty with the Count and Countess and their large retinues absent. They dismounted and turned over their horses to their handlers. The aliens had some trouble dismounting but after his previous encounter with the woman, Arkadi made no attempt to help her.

 

“So, this is Count Vorkosigan’s home?” asked the alien leader, Captain Hodgkins, as he regained his feet and dusted off the knees of his trousers.

 

“Not really,” replied Lord Vorpeter. “His official residence is in Vorkosigan Vashnoi, which is a large town about forty miles northwest of here. This is merely a summer residence for him. He has another home in the capital, of course, and these days he spends more time there than anywhere else. The Count is one of the Emperor’s most trusted advisors.”

 

“And the Emperor is…?”

 

“Dorca Vorbarra,” answered both Vorpeter and Vorserran in unison.

 

“And he rules this whole planet?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“We’ll probably want to talk to him at some point.” Arkadi stiffened, the man spoke like he wanted to see the local baker!

 

“And I’m sure he’ll want to talk to you, too!” exclaimed Vorserran, apparently oblivious to the man’s lack of respect. “But for right now please be our guests here in the Count’s name.” He gestured for the aliens to follow him and they all trooped inside the great hall. The strangers began pointing out features of place that Arkadi had never given much thought to: the old flags and banners hanging from the walls, the paintings and portraits and tapestries. The castle was the original and oldest stronghold of the Vorkosigans and the amount of history stored here was impressive. The Count’s residence in Vorkosigan Vashnoi wasn’t nearly as old and the great house in Vorbarr Sultana was almost brand new by comparison.

 

The relative handful of servants remaining in the castle were bustling about, trying to adapt to the unexpected arrival of important guests. Some of them seemed surprised and even put out that the strangers had no luggage to carry or even cloaks that they could hang up. The female alien tried to make small talk with some of the women servants, which put them even more off kilter. They scurried away as fast as they decently could.

 

Vorpeter gave the strangers a quick tour of the castle while dinner was being prepared and they finally ended up in one of the smaller rooms off of the great hall. A table big enough for the three strangers, Vopeter, Vorserran, and Lord Vorkosigan had been set with the best dishes and silverware. The meal itself was much simpler than it normally would have been, but was still as good as could have been expected on such short notice. Beef, mutton, and chicken along with bread and a variety of vegetables and greens. Good food, wine and ale, who could ask for more? Arkadi took up his post behind Lord Vorkosigan and helped pour the wine.

 

The others dug in with gusto, but the three aliens looked at their food with… suspicion. They nibbled some of the vegetables and the bread, but only poked the meat with their forks. “It’s all quite safe,” growled Arkadi. “Nothing reaches Lord Vorkosigan’s table that hasn’t been inspected.”

 

“Oh,” said Captain Hodgkins, blushing. “It’s not that… it’s just…”

 

“Is this really from… from an animal?” asked the woman, gesturing toward a slab of beef on the platter in front of her.

 

“Where else?”

 

“Oh dear,” said the engineer, his eyes bulging and his face turning greenish.

 

“What’s wrong?” asked Vorserran.

 

“We don’t… That is, we don’t…”

 

“You don’t eat meat?”

 

“We do, it’s just that we don’t get it from… animals.”

 

“Where else can you get meat?” demanded Vorpeter.

 

“We can… uh grow it in vats,” said the woman. “We don’t have to kill animals to get it.”

 

“Really?” asked Vorserran, looking very interested. “Animal flesh without the animal? How can that be?” The two alien men looked at the alien woman.

 

“Oh, well, it’s a cloning process where the cells of the…” she stopped and seemed to realize that her words had no meaning, even to the professor. “Uh, well, it’s a bit complicated. Perhaps I can explain it to you later, Professor.”

 

“But what’s the point?” demanded Lord Vorkosigan. “I mean if it’s still meat, why not just raise animals?”

“Ah, well, you see, my lord, animals require grazing land and we have almost no grazing land on Komarr.”

 

Oh, well that made a bit more sense to Arkadi except… “So then why are you all looking so green at eating our meat from our animals if it’s all the same?” The aliens squirmed in their seats, looking embarrassed, but suddenly the woman spoke again:

 

“You’re absolutely right: we’re being silly.” She determinedly sliced off a piece of beef with her knife and fork and popped it in her mouth and chewed. “Delicious! Come on gentlemen, have some!” The other two glared at her but then looked sheepishly at the other people at the table and then slowly cut tiny bits of meat and ate them. From there the meal went more or less normally, although neither of the alien men ate a great deal.

 

Arkadi continued to stand his post and served his lord as needed. The conversation rambled quite a bit with Vorserran trying to get scientific information from the aliens and the aliens asking about trade possibilities. Vorpeter made one clumsy inquiry about weapons but the answers he got back were frustratingly vague. The one bit of useful information that came out was that the vehicle which brought them to Vorkosigan Surleau was not the _starship_ that had brought them to Barrayar. Apparently it was just a dinghy for some much larger vessel that was still up in the sky circling Barrayar. There were more men on that vessel, so there was nothing to be gained and possibly a great deal to be lost in trying to seize these people or their dinghy.

 

Eventually the meal ended. Vorpeter invited the strangers to spend the night and after some discussion, they agreed. They were shown to guest rooms and servants assigned to attend to them. Arkadi escorted Lord Vorkosigan to his room although the boy claimed that he was not sleepy at all.

 

“I’m too excited to sleep! This is the most exciting thing that’s ever happened, Arkadi! Aren’t you even interested?”

 

“Oh, I’m interested, my lord. But my main duty is still to keep you safe.” He stared at the boy and tried to keep his expression neutral. _And while this might be the most exciting thing to ever happen, it might also be the most dangerous._

 

 

 

Chapter 3

 

 

It was a little before midnight in Vorbarr Sultana when the servant interrupted Count Vorstakoff as he was preparing for bed. The Count looked at the man in annoyance. It had been a long day and he was tired. “Yes?” he snapped. “What is it?”

 

“Your pardon, my lord, but Lord Vorfallon is here. He says it’s most urgent.”

 

Vorstakoff cut off his irritation as with a knife. Vorfallon was his closest confidant here in the capital. He would not be coming at this time of night for something trivial. “Very well. Have him wait for me in the Blue Room. I’ll be down shortly.”

 

“Yes my lord.” The servant withdrew.

 

Vorstakoff briefly considered dressing again completely, but instead took a robe from the closet and wrapped it around himself. He stepped into a pair of slippers and then left the room. Most of the lights were already out in Vorstakoff House, but he had no trouble making his way down the stairs and to the Blue Room where the servant had relit the candles and lamps. Vorfallon was pacing nervously in front of the fireplace but stopped when he saw him.

 

“Well, Anton, what brings you here at this time of night?”asked Vorstakof.  Vorfallon looked at the servant who quickly left and shut the door at a gesture. “So? What is it?”

 

“First off, Viktor, I want to assure you that I have not been drinking. Or not enough to impair my wits, anyway,” said Vorfallon. “You are going to think I’m insane or drunk when I tell you this, but I’m not, all right?”

 

Vorstakoff snorted in amusement, but found himself deeply curious. Vorfallon was not given to hyperbole or wild exaggeration. So what information did he have that had him so wound up? “All right, I believe you. So why are you here?”

 

“I have some rather incredible news from the palace, Viktor. I trust the source completely, but it’s still incredible.”

 

“What is it Anton?” said Vorstakoff with dwindling patience. “It’s late.”

 

Vofallon nodded and made a soothing gesture with his hand. “Well, it appears that a ship has landed in Vorkosigan District.”

 

“What? A ship? But Vorkosigan District is land-locked, man! How could a ship…” He stopped suddenly, too shocked to go on.

 

“That’s right, Viktor, a space ship. A ship from the stars.”

 

Vorstakoff found a chair and collapsed into it. “But that’s… that’s impossible!”

 

“You know very well that it is not impossible. The Firsters came here in space ships.”

 

“The Firsters are just legends!”

 

“You don’t really believe that do you?”

 

Vorstakoff frowned. “No… no I don’t. But how…? I mean after all these centuries…! Who are they? What do they want? And why Vorkosigan District?

 

Vorfallon raised a hand and shook his head and laughed sourly. “Sorry, Viktor, I don’t have answers for any of those questions! Neither does anyone else, apparently. The Emperor and his circle are as baffled as we are.”

 

“Could it be some sort of hoax…?” asked Vorstakoff, who desperately wanted it to be a hoax. Things were complicated enough without some new and totally unexpected factor being thrown into the mix.

 

“That was the first thought that everyone had when the telegraph from Vorkosigan Surleau arrived. But word came almost simultaneously from the Imperial University that the astronomers there had spotted a strange object in the sky with their telescopes, circling Barrayar. If it’s a hoax it’s a rather astonishingly well planned one.”

 

“My God…” whispered Vorstakoff. “So what… what is Vorbarra planning to do about this?”

 

“The only thing my source was able to tell me on that score is that Vorkosigan will be returning to his district in the morning to meet the visitors and try to persuade them to come back to Vorbarr Sultana to meet with the emperor.”

 

“Damnation,” growled Vorstakoff. “Think of the power these people represent!”

 

“I have Viktor, I have. Why do you think I came here at this dreadful hour?”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sheela had not slept well and was actually grateful when dawn started seeping through the cracks around the shutters on the windows. The planet had a rotation about two hours longer than a standard day—almost eight hours longer than Komarr’s day—and the night had seemed to last forever. Despite her exhaustion from yesterday’s excitement the environment was just too alien to allow her to sleep well. The bed was lumpy and there had been a multitude of strange sounds during the night. At some point a strong breeze had come up and at every puff of air, every whistle of wind around the window, she had jerked awake fearing there had been a breach in the dome. She told herself again and again that there was no dome and she was in no danger, but a lifetime of living in Komarr’s tightly controlled environment could not be undone in one night. Perhaps staying had not been such a good idea after all. But the shuttle had no sleeping accommodations and going all the way back to the ship would have been so inconvenient.

 

She got up from the bed and went over to a window and pushed open the shutters. She sucked in her breath at the view that was revealed. It had been dark when she came up here and there had been nothing to see then. But now, now she looked out on tall mountains and vast forests and the dark waters of the lake stretching off until they vanished in gray mists. The sky above was a deep royal blue and a few faint stars could still be seen. Off to the east the horizon was a hazy pink, brightening to yellow near one prominent mountain peak. As she watched in fascination the yellow slowly turned to a dazzling white and then the world’s sun emerged. The sky was suddenly a light blue and the forests a rich green and white snow glinted on some of the higher mountains. Sheela realized she had been holding her breath. Komarr had nothing like this. Nothing.

 

A knock on the door made her turn. A woman entered with a bundle in her arms. “Good morning, my lady, I hope you slept… oh! Your pardon!” the woman looked shocked.

 

“What’s wrong?”

 

“I didn’t intend to barge in with you… undressed, my lady!”

 

Undressed? She looked down at herself. She was wearing her underwear. What was wrong? It wasn’t like she was naked…

 

“It’s all right,” she said, but she picked up her shirt and held it in front of herself. “What have you got there?”

 

“Oh,” said the flustered woman. “I have some clothes for you. I could wash what you were wearing yesterday if you like.” She closed the door and started laying things out on the bed.

 

Sheela instinctively started to say that she didn’t need anything. Her clothes weren’t really dirty after all… But she came over and looked at what the woman was offering her. There was a cream colored blouse with lace at the collar and cuffs, a vest of green velvet with intricate embroidery in gold and a long skirt in the same green that would probably come to her ankles. It looked totally silly, but at the same time… _What the hell?_ “All right, let’s see if it will fit,” she said.

 

The woman, whose name was Tatya and old enough to be her mother, helped her dress. The blouse had a ridiculous number of tiny white buttons and Tatya managed to fasten three quarters of them in the time it took Sheela to do the rest. She started to put on the skirt, but the woman stopped her and insisted that she put on a set of white pantaloons first. She was still wearing her own underwear so she didn’t see the point. Again she tried to put on the skirt and again she was stopped. “Oh no, my lady, you need the petticoat or the skirt won’t fall properly. Here let me…” She took another white skirt and fastened it around her. Sheela sighed. If she’d known all this was involved she never would have agreed! But finally she was allowed to don the skirt and fortunately, the vest was just a vest, although with a high collar in the back.

 

“I’m afraid I don’t have any proper shoes for you, my lady,” said Tatya looking with disapproval at her comfortable shipboard slippers. “But here, let me help you with your hat.”

 

Hat? Before she could protest, a small round hat with the brim turned up on one side and a feather stuck in it had been pinned to her hair. “Who…? Who do these belong to?”

 

“Oh, they belonged to the Countess when she was younger. Lord Vorpeter said she wouldn’t mind you wearing them.” She then whispered: “They haven’t fit the Countess for years.” Then Tatya stepped back and looked her over. “Well, my lady, you look lovely! A shame your hair is so short, though. Well, nothing we can do about that! Will you come down for breakfast? It should be nearly ready by now.”

 

“All right… oh, drat…” She suddenly realized that she needed to use the small adjoining room that served as a toilet. She had to get halfway undressed to use blasted thing. Tatya helped her with infinite patience. Finally she was dressed again and the servant led her out of the room and down the stairs.

 

She found Tam and Ian in the large foyer. As she had expected, both of them were wearing their normal clothes. They were talking with Vorpeter and Vorserran and none of them seemed to recognize her until she was standing right next to them. “Holy…! Good God, is that you, Sheela?” exclaimed Tam when he really took a look at her. Ian gave her a wolf-whistle and a huge grin.

 

“Good morning, Lady Sheela,” said Professor Vorserran. “I must say you look lovely.”

 

“Thank you, Professor. And thank you, Lord Vorpeter for providing them.”

 

“My pleasure, Lady Sheela,” said Vorpeter, bowing. Sheela was tempted to ask exactly _why_ he had provided the clothes. Was the sight of a woman running around in trousers that disruptive? But she held her tongue and followed the others into the room where Lord Vorkosigan, his guardian, and their breakfast was waiting. This consisted of an oatmeal-like mush that was called _groats_ , bread, several types of fruits and berries and some sort of meat patty that their hosts called _scrapple_. She tried a little bit of everything to be polite and most of it was good, but she had to admit that the scrapple was pretty awful. Tam and Ian were not as adventurous.

 

During the meal the Barrayarans talked of nothing important, but once they were finished, Lord Vorpeter said: “So, is there anything you would like to see today? We can give you a tour of the village or take a ride through the forest. From what you said last night you have nothing like that on your own world.”

 

“We’d like that very much,” said Sheela and she meant it. The view from her window was still resonating inside her. But Tam said:

 

“We appreciate the offer, but our time is limited. Perhaps it would be better if we made contact with your emperor and got down to business on what trade possibilities exist.”

 

“Yeah,” muttered Ian, “the Weasel is probably ready to gnaw his own leg off by this time.”

 

The Barrayarans looked uncomfortable for some reason and exchanged glances. Finally Vorpeter spoke: “Well, as it happens, we received a telegram from the capital a few hours ago. Count Vorkosigan is on his way here…”

 

“Father is coming here?” exclaimed the young lord excitedly.

 

“Yes, my lord, his train should be here this afternoon. He is to escort our guests back to Vorbarr Sultana to meet with the Emperor.”

 

“Can I come?” demanded the boy.

 

“That will be up to your father, my lord.” The look on Vorkosigan’s face made it clear that he had no intention of being left behind.

 

“Three hundred kilometers on one of those rickety contraptions?” said Ian skeptically. They had observed some of the Barrayaran railroads from orbit—including what was obviously a serious wreck. “Our shuttle can get us there in ten minutes. Why not take that?”

 

Now the Barrayarans looked really uncomfortable—except for the boy. “Uh, well, the Count is going to want to talk to you on the journey back to the capital so he can properly brief the Emperor before he meets with you. And I doubt that Count Vorkosigan would be willing to…”

 

“How many people can your vessel carry?” interrupted Arkadi Kurzov, who was scowling ferociously.

 

“Six,” replied Tam. “There are four of us, so there’s room. And granted there won’t be much time to talk but…”

 

“Absolutely out of the question!” snapped the bodyguard. “The Count cannot travel with you strangers with only a single armsman!”

 

“What? You think we’re gonna kidnap him or something?” asked Ian.

 

The look on Kurzov’s face said that was exactly what he was thinking.

 

“Well, I don’t like the idea of being separated from our transport by such a large distance,” said Tam. “And there’s no way we’ll get Weitzl on one of your trains. And he’ll want to be involved in any talks.”

 

It looked like an argument was in the making but Sheela stepped in. “Can I make a suggestion?” Everyone looked at her.

 

“Of course, my lady,” said Vorpeter.

 

“How about this: Tam and I can take the railroad with Count Vorkosigan. Then, once we’re there and settled Ian can pilot the shuttle and Mr. Weitzl to some pre-arranged landing spot. That way we have our shuttle handy and you have all the security for the Count that you want.”

 

“An excellent idea, my lady!” said Vorserran.

 

The others agreed, although Ian, only minutes after stating he wanted nothing to do with steam railways, said he was disappointed at not getting a chance to examine one close up!

 

“Well, we can make up for that!” said Vorpeter. “A number of other trains will be passing through today and we can give you a look when they stop.”

 

So, their day included a visit to the railway station as well as a tour of the village of Vorkosigan Surleau. Sheela was silently disappointed about not getting a ride through the local forest, but perhaps there would be an opportunity later. The steam engines proved to be huge, noisy and very dirty, dripping grease and spewing huge clouds of black smoke. The Barrayarans had yet to discover any oil or coal deposits on their world and considering the sort of plant and animal life native to the planet it was entirely possible they never would. So the locomotives were powered by burning wood, which seemed an awful waste to Sheela.

 

“We’ll certainly be able to sell power plants to the Barrayarans,” she said to Tam.

 

“We could sell them plenty of things, but I’m not sure how they’d pay for any of it. I haven’t seen anything here of much value,” he replied.

 

“We just got here. There might be all sorts of good stuff we haven’t seen yet.”

 

“Well, there better be something or the Weasel is gonna have a stroke. And we could lose the ship.” Sheela looked at Tam and saw the expression on his face. His ship meant everything to him.

 

“We’ll just have to find something.” She tried to sound confident, but truthfully she wasn’t sure what they’d be able to come up with. Interstellar commerce was a complicated thing and she knew little about it. There were bound to be some ways to make money off Barrayar, tourism if nothing else, but she wasn’t sure how any of that money would end up in Tam’s pocket—or hers.

 

They rode back to the castle for the noon meal. Sheela was growing more and more comfortable on a horse. They really were beautiful animals. Tam and Ian did not share her feelings.

 

After the meal Tatya found her and dragged her back to her guest room and presented her with a whole new set of clothing that was considerably more elaborate than the set she was wearing. “Oh, you must be properly dressed to meet the Count!” said the woman when she protested. Tatya just brushed aside Sheela’s comment about being properly dressed for a Komarran. The new outfit was similar to the first one except that it was more elaborately decorated with embroidery and lace and that it included a cloak that fell to just below her waist. Tatya had also found a pair of fine leather boots (made from the real skin of real animals) that fit her quite well. She had to admit that the light shoes she had been wearing weren’t really suited for stirrups on a horse, so she was willing to wear them—and they did go with the outfit. This time she made sure that she used the toilet before she got dressed.

 

She met Tam and Ian downstairs and they made snarky comments about her clothing, but almost seemed disappointed that they hadn’t been offered any native costumes of their own. “The Count’s train is due in a couple hours,” said Tam. “So we’re going to pick up Weitzl and head back to the station to meet him.”

 

“Weitzl’s willing to leave the shuttle?” asked Sheela.

 

“He’s not happy about it,” said Ian, “but he realizes he needs to be there to meet the Count.”

 

“Vorpeter’s getting some sort of wagon for him to get him to the station, since we’ll never get him on a horse,” added Tam.

 

Lord Vorkosigan appeared, accompanied by the ubiquitous Arkadi Kurzov. Kurzov was wearing what could only be called a uniform. It was mostly fine brown cloth with silver trim. Sheela suddenly noticed that many members of the household seemed to be in brown and silver. The young lord came right up to Tam.

 

“When we go to get your friend, can we take a closer look at your ship, Captain?” he asked. Kurzov made a choking noise and his face turned red. “Come, Arkadi! It can’t be that dangerous! And we don’t have to go inside, maybe just a look through the door? Please?”

 

“It’s quite safe, I assure you,” said Tam. “And you can certainly have a look.” Kurzov snorted but made no open protest.

 

A few minutes later they were all on horses again heading back down the hill from the castle. When they reached the stables they found a horse-drawn carriage waiting for them. Tam and Ian decided that they would rather ride in the carriage than remain atop their horses, so they piled in and the driver steered it over to the shuttle. The rest of the cavalcade followed along. They all dismounted while Tam gave the Barrayarans a quick tour of the outside of the shuttle. Then the airlock was opened up and a very disgruntled Weitzl came out and stood there while the natives peered inside through the open doors. Kurzov had to repeatedly restrain Lord Vorkosigan from slipping inside.

 

“When is the Count’s train due?” asked Sheela to Vorpeter when it seemed like they were spending an awful lot of time at the shuttle.

 

“Oh, some time this afternoon,” replied Vorpeter. “Don’t worry, we’ll hear the whistle in plenty of time to get to the station.” With a shock Sheela realized that unlike the to-the-minute schedules of Komarran monorails, an ‘afternoon arrival’ meant exactly that here on Barrayar. The train would arrive sometime this afternoon! Considering how mechanically unreliable the steam engines they’d seen appeared, she supposed there could be all manner of delays.

 

Eventually the tour came to an end and they prepared to head for the station. But as Weitzl started get into the carriage, Kurzov stopped him. “What is that?” he demanded, pointing to the small case on his belt. Sheela immediately recognized it as the carrying case for a breath mask.  Her compatriots saw it and laughed.

 

“Mr. Weitzl, the air here is perfectly safe to breathe!” exclaimed Tam. “You don’t need that!”

 

Weitzl frowned. “I’ve never gone outside anywhere without a breath mask in my life and I’m not about to start now.”

 

Sheela shook her head, but then looking at Weitzl she realized he really was terrified of the wide open spaces here. His breath mask was probably for his emotional security more than anything else. But at Kurzov’s insistence he opened up the case and they explained and demonstrated how the mask worked to Kurzov until he was satisfied that it wasn’t a weapon.

 

But then he said: “I’m afraid I have to ask you gentlemen to turn out your pockets.”

 

“What?” exclaimed the three Komarran men.

 

“Is that really necessary, Arkadi?” asked Vorpeter.

 

“You know it is, my lord,” he replied stiffly. “The Count will be here soon.”

 

“Yes, I suppose so,” said Vorpeter reluctantly. “I’m sorry, gentlemen, but if you’d please do as he asks.”

 

Tam and Ian shrugged and turned out their pockets. Some of the items mystified the Barrayarans and had to be explained, but none looked threatening enough to alarm them.

 

Weitzl seemed very reluctant to empty his pockets and Sheela gasped when he took out a small stunner and set it on the seat of the carriage. Despite its tiny size, with its trigger and hand grip there wasn’t the slightest doubt that it was a weapon. The Barrayrans cried out in alarm and in an eyeblink Kurzov had a long knife centimeters from Weitzl’s throat, which caused him to shout and stagger backwards.

 

“What is that?” demanded Vorpeter who had drawn his sword. Several other men had come running, one with a pistol in his hand.

 

“It’s uh… it’s a stunner,” gasped Tam, totally taken by surprise by the turn of events.

 

“It’s a defensive device,” said Sheela. “For self-protection. It will knock a man unconscious without doing any harm. Please, he didn’t know you’d object.” She glared at Weitzl. “But he should have known better than to bring it.”

 

“Yeah! Good God, man!” said Tam angrily. “We’re guests here!”

 

“And if there were any real danger that thing would have kept you alive for about an extra ten seconds, you damn fool,” added Ian.

 

Weitzl was pale as a ghost and looked at the blade in Kurzov’s hand. “How… how can you claim that we aren’t in any danger?” he choked.

 

“Lord Vorpeter,” said Sheela, “we apologize for this misunderstanding. I assure you that we mean no harm to you or your count.”

 

“Yes, yes, I think I believe you,” said Vorpeter, sheathing his sword and regaining his composure. “Arkadi, it will be all right.”

 

Kurzov frowned but nodded. “I’ll have to take that,” he said pointing to the stunner.

 

“Of course,” said Sheela before Weitzl could object. “Do you want to search me as well, armsman?”

 

“That won’t be necessary, my lady,” grumbled Kurzov. He gingerly took up the stunner and put it in his pocket.

 

“Well! Why don’t we get going?” said Vorpeter loudly. “We need to get down to the station.”

 

The tension slowly dissipated and shortly the party was on its way, the carriage bumping and clattering along on the rough road. Seeing her companions being jerked around by the motion, Sheela was glad she remained on her horse.

 

They reached the village and then the station and dismounted. Sheela sought out Vorserran. “Professor, I’m sorry about what happened,” she said. “But tell me: is Count Vorkosigan in so much real danger from assassination that such precautions are necessary?”

 

Vorserran looked embarrassed. “We are a violent people, my lady, I’m sorry to say. A great many counts have been assassinated over the years, and even a few emperors. It’s the most common way that political change comes about.”

 

“Oh dear.”

 

“Part of the price of being Vor, I suppose.”

 

Sheela’s eyebrows went up. “Yes, that was another question I had. All the… I was about to say all the important people, but I suppose I should say all the people who seem to be in charge have names that start with ‘vor’. Is that some sort of title?”

 

Vorserran looked surprised. “Oh, yes, I guess you wouldn’t know about that. The things we take for granted! The uh, the ruling class here are all Vors. After the Abandonment and the Great Fire, things were very difficult here on Barrayar. The wondrous devices of the Firsters were all lost and many people died. For generations it was a struggle just to survive. During that time natural leaders arose and at some point—the records don’t say exactly when—those leaders took on the status of Vor. It’s been that way ever since.”

 

“I see. But who would want to assassinate the Count? And why?”

 

Vorserran hesitated but then nodded his head as if he’d made some decision. “I suppose you really do need to know if you are going to be able to negotiate with the Emperor sensibly. Vorpeter probably wouldn’t agree,” he said nodding his head to where the man was making arrangements for the Count’s arrival. “But so be it. You need to understand that until only about twenty years ago the Emperor did not rule all of Barrayar. Many of the counts were independent rulers, each with their own armies. It had been like that for many years and wars great and small were almost constant. The ‘Bloody Centuries’ we called them. There had been emperors before Dorca, of course, and sometimes they were able to become the dominant power, but it never lasted. The counts were too jealous of their rights and privileges. They would revolt and form alliances and more wars would break apart whatever had been built. Sometimes we would have two competing emperors. But Emperor Dorca, he’s managed to go farther than any other emperor was ever able to. In the past, when each count had an army, the emperor was dependent on the counts to send troops when he called for them. And if they refused…” Vorserran held out his hand and shrugged.

 

“I can see the problem,” said Sheela, remembering that class on Earth history. “What count was going to send troops to help suppress a fellow count? They could be next.”

 

“Yes, exactly,” said Vorserran nodding vigorously. “Exactly, my lady! Well, Dorca has managed to build an Imperial Army strong enough to enforce his will without the support of the counts. He’s forced the counts to give up their personal armies. Each count is now limited to a mere twenty armsmen—like Arkadi there.”

 

Sheela looked to where Kurzov was speaking with Lord Vorkosigan.

 

“But it’s only been twenty years since the last counts were forced to submit to the Emperor. The new system is working, but it is fragile and there are still many counts who resent the loss of their power. Of course most counts do support the Emperor. They’re tired of the endless fighting. Count Vorkosigan is one of the Emperor’s most loyal supporters. Which makes him a target for the opposition. I’m not aware of any current threat—not that I would be, of course—but precautions must be taken.”

 

“I see. Thank you for the information, Professor. That’s very useful. But this ‘great fire’ you spoke of, what was that? I can understand ‘the abandonment’ that must have been when the wormhole collapsed and you were cut off. But what was the fire? Did the first colony’s encampment burn down or something?”

 

Vorserran shook his head. “The records are so incomplete and it was so long ago. We only have legends to go from. But the legends say that it wasn’t a normal fire, it was a great fire in the sky that lasted for years. The devices of the Firsters were destroyed and many people died of terrible illnesses. I’m sorry, but that’s all there is. All we know for sure is that many terrible years followed as the people tried to survive and rebuild. Do you know of anything that might make this more clear, my lady?”

 

“Not off the top of my head, no,” said Sheela, her mind working furiously. “I’ll have to check some of our records.” She fell silent and after a moment Vorserran was called away. Sheela found a bench and sat down and pulled out her computer—which she’d already convinced Kurzov was harmless. She clicked on the communicator and called the ship. “Danno? You there?”

 

“Hey, Sheela, how’s it going?” came the reply from the jump-pilot. “Everything all right down there? The Weasel said you’re going to see the emperor-fellow.”

 

“Yeah, that’s right.”

 

“So when do I get a chance to go down there? Damn boring up here!”

 

 “I’m not sure. Hopefully not too much longer. But everything’s fine. Danno, before I left I put the ship’s telescope back to work on that full-sky survey. It must have finished by now. Can you send the results down here to me?”

 

“Uh, sure. Give me a minute. But why? What’s up?”

 

“Oh, just a theory. I’ll tell you about it when I have time.”

 

“Okay.” After a few moments the data-stream from the ship poured into her computer. When it was done, she said good-bye to Danno and then took the data of the current stars in Barrayar’s skies and started a comparison against her master star chart. There were sure to be a number of small differences caused by stellar motion. But if her hunch was right there ought to be one big difference. One very big difference…

 

A sudden shrill whistle in the distance broke her concentration. The train was coming and everyone on the platform was growing excited. Reluctantly she put away the computer—leaving it to run the comparison.

 

Count Vorkosigan was arriving.

 

 

Chapter 4

 

 

Arkadi Kurzov put a hand on the boy’s shoulder as the train chugged into the station. He knew the lad had the sense to stay off the tracks by this age, but he couldn’t help but be careful. Piotr seemed excited enough by his father’s arrival that he didn’t try to squirm away from the grip as he normally would have.

 

It was a short train, just three cars. The Count’s personal carriage was at the rear. The other cars would be carrying the rest of the armsmen, servants, and a few horses in case of a serious breakdown. Arkadi could see several armsmen leaning out from the doors, carefully scrutinizing the people waiting on the platform. Two of them hopped down even before the train had halted. Arkadi gave an ‘all clear’ signal to one of them and he nodded. He was still upset by the earlier incident with the alien and the weapon, but even he could realize that the chance of total strangers coming all the way here specifically to assassinate his count was pretty unlikely. It had probably been just a stupid misunderstanding. Still…

 

With a squeal of brakes and several lurches the train finally came to a stop. More armsmen poured out and despite Arkadi’s signal, formed a perimeter around the train and the platform. Good. Take nothing for granted. Ivan Karal, the head armsman debarked and came over to Lord Vorpeter. “Good afternoon, my lord,” he said. “All in order?”

 

“Yes, armsman, everything’s fine.”

 

“Arkadi?” Karal looked to him.

 

“All’s well, Ivan.” Karal’s face relaxed. It was a little signal they’d worked out between them. If there had been anything wrong he would have addressed him as ‘Armsman Karal’.

 

“Good! I’ll bring the Count.” Karal turned and went back to the train but Count Vorkosigan was already coming down the steps to the platform. Arkadi sighed. Well, they could try…

 

Lord Vorpeter stepped forward to greet his liege-lord. “Welcome back, my lord.”

 

“Dammit, Weston,” said the Count angrily. “I left you here with clear orders to keep things under control! And what do you do? You invite a batch of aliens from the stars to land in my back yard! What were you thinking, man?”

 

Vorpeter stiffened and turned pale. But then Vorkosigan slapped him on the shoulder and grinned. “Don’t just stand there! Introduce me to our guests!” Arkadi let out his breath. The Count had an infuriating habit of making outrageous statements with a straight face. He apparently considered that humor, but since he could also make some pretty outrageous statements and be dead serious his subordinates never knew what to think. Arkadi was convinced it was deliberate.

 

Vorpeter recovered and gestured toward the waiting aliens. “My lord, this is Captain Hodgkins of the starship… uh, _Fool’s Luck_. Captain, Count Vorkosigan.”

 

The Count nodded and said: “Captain, welcome to my district and in the name of the Emperor, to Barrayar.”

 

Hodgkins had been coached on what to do and bowed properly. “Count Vorkosigan, thank you for your welcome and your hospitality. Allow me to present my… companions.” The man introduced his engineer and then the strange man named Weitzl, whose function here was still unclear to Arkadi. Vorkosigan greeted each one courteously, but when they got to the woman he paused.

 

“Well, unless this is a truly amazing coincidence I have to believe that someone has been raiding my wife’s closets!”

 

“Oh, I uh, took the liberty, my lord,” said Vorpeter. “I thought Lady Sheela might be more comfortable…”

 

Why _had_ Vorpeter given the woman those clothes? Arkadi had to admit that dressed like a woman instead of a man the alien was actually rather pretty. Just let her hair grow out…

 

Vorkosigan grinned. “I haven’t seen Ludmilla in that since… I hope you’ve been well attended to, Lady Sheela?”

 

“Perfectly, my lord,” replied the woman. “Thank you for your hospitality and your welcome. I hope that this will just be the first of many meetings between our two peoples.”

 

Vorkosigan bowed slightly and took her hand for a moment but his reply was lost in a hiss of steam from the locomotive as it began to move. It would have to go halfway to Vorkosigan Vashnoi before it could turn around for the trip back to the capital.

 

“My lord,” said Vorpeter, “I’ve arranged for a meal at the tavern. I assumed you’d want to depart for the capital as soon as the train returns and that you wouldn’t want to go all the way up to the castle.”

 

“Yes, quite right,” replied Vorkosigan. “Good thinking, Weston. Shall we go?”

 

“Father! Father!” shouted young Piotr, unable to restrain himself any longer. “You must see their ship! It’s landed right next to the stables! I saw it flying!” The Count smiled and hoisted the boy up for a moment but then groaned theatrically and set him down.

 

“You’ve grown again! Just since I last saw you!”

 

“Oh Father! You always say that! Mother didn’t come with you?”

 

“I had to leave in the middle of the night just to get here this early, boy! She’ll be waiting for us when we get there—and you can tell her all about your great adventure.”

 

“Then I can come, too?” Piotr asked excitedly.

 

“Of course,” said his father with a smile. “I wouldn’t want you to miss this. This is history in the making!”

 

The much expanded party left the station for the short walk into the village. Most of the inhabitants came out to watch and the Count greeted many of them by name. Vorkosigan had a knack for remembering names and faces and small facts about his people. It endeared him to them and he was a popular ruler. He demanded the same courtesy of his subordinates and there hadn’t been serious peasants’ revolt in the district in living memory.

 

They reached the tavern and the owner was there with his staff to welcome their count. The meal was plain, but good (Arkadi snatched a few things from the kitchen as he usually did at meal time) and the Count steered the conversation away from any serious business, relating the various delays on the railroad and asking general questions of the aliens about their journey and the planet they came from.

 

But the meal was short and then the Count and his son, and to Arkadi’s surprise the alien woman, and a proper escort galloped off to see the alien ship. The woman was clearly frightened by the fast pace, never having gone at more than an easy walk before, but she managed to hang on to her horse and even seemed to be enjoying it by the time they reached the stables. Arkadi had ridden close to her just in case, but she’d done well for a total novice.

 

“My!” she exclaimed as she dismounted. “That was more exciting than making a new wormhole jump!”

 

They made a quick circuit of the vessel with the woman pointing out things of interest. But before long they heard the train whistle in the distance. “I’d love to see more, Lady Sheela,” said the Count, “but we can’t keep the Emperor waiting. Perhaps once your ship has moved to Vorbarr Sultana we can get a more complete tour.”

 

“I’m sure that will be possible, my lord,” said the woman.

 

As they remounted, the carriage arrived with the two aliens who would be staying with their vessel. “Good luck, Sheela!” said the engineer. “We’ll be seeing you in a couple of days, I guess.”

 

“Yes, we’ll give you progress reports every few hours.”

 

The Count led them back to the station at a slightly slower pace, but they reached it just as the train was coming to a stop. He wasted no time in ushering everyone aboard.

 

“Next stop: Vorbarr Sultana.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sheela followed Count Vorkosigan onto the train; he offered her his hand as she went up the steps. Considering how easy it was to trip over the damn skirt, she was glad for the courtesy. Why hell did the skirts have to be so long?  The interior of the car resembled a monorail car in the general size and shape, but no Komarran monorail ever looked like this! The seats were all covered in brown velvet and embroidered with silver thread. There was some sort of motif, Sheela thought it was a leaf with little mountains in front of it, woven into the back of each seat. Come to think of it, she’d seen that motif in several other places. The interior walls were painted a dark green and there were silver lanterns mounted at intervals along them. The wood frames for the seats along with the window frames were painted white. The carpet was a dark red with silver trim.

 

At the front of the car, where she entered, there were four rows of seats, two on each side of a center aisle. Then there were two sets of sofas in a ‘U’ pattern facing each other. Beyond them was a door. Sheela didn’t think that was the rear of the car, so there was probably a small bedroom for the Count beyond the doors. Clearly the man knew how to travel in style! Of course if it took half a day to go three hundred kilometers, she could hardly blame him.

 

Vorkosigan ushered his guests to the sofas. Vorpeter, Vorserran, and the Count’s son all joined them. Arkadi Kurzov and two more of the guards—the armsmen—took station near the front of the car. Another man, a servant, appeared and offered everyone drinks. Sheela decided to sample the local tea.

 

After a few moments the train lurched into motion, throwing her against Tam who was sitting beside her. The acceleration was horribly uneven and she nearly fell off the sofa in the other direction before it finally settled down. The ride was anything but smooth and the train gave off a strange clickety-clack sound as it moved along the rails. The car was warm and she wondered why all the windows were shut until a cloud of black smoke came streaming along one side of the car, nearly obstructing the view. _Three hundred kilometers? In this monstrosity?_ They couldn’t have been going more than thirty kilometers an hour and allowing for the sort of delays the Count had been complaining about, they might well not reach the capital until the following morning.

 

The servant returned with the drinks and Sheela noticed that they were all, including her tea, served in tall glasses or cups that were only half filled. To prevent accidental spillage caused by the erratic motion of the train, she supposed. Her tea had an unusual flavor, but it wasn’t bad at all.

 

“Well,” said Count Vorkosigan, once they all had their drinks, “on the whole trip down here I kept trying to think of diplomatic ways of getting the information I needed out of you. After I rejected about a dozen different approaches I finally said to hell with it and decided that I was just going to ask you straight and be done with it.” The expression on his face made Sheela think for an instant that the man was making a joke. But there was a glint in his eyes that told her otherwise.

 

“I think that’s probably a wise decision, my lord,” said Sheela. “Ask us any question you like.”

 

“All right then. Vorpeter here tells me that your expedition is primarily an economic venture. You’re here to try and make money. Fair enough. So how are you planning to make money off of us? And why should we let you? What’s in it for us?”

 

Sheela blinked. She’d welcomed the idea of plain speaking, but this was a bit plainer than she’d expected!

 

“Uh…,” said Tam he looked frantically at Sheela.

 

“My lord,” said Sheela, desperately thinking of what to say. “Finding you here was as much a surprise to us as our arrival was to you. We are explorers not merchants and you’ll have to forgive us for not having all the answers you want. But we are assuming that you will want to buy things from us. We have some very advanced technology, as you’ve seen, and we—or someone—will be willing to sell it to you. We, that is, Tam and I and our companions, will, I suppose, levy some sort of toll on the merchants who want to come here to deal with you. That’s how we will make money off the situation. Or at least that makes sense to me, I’m no expert on this sort of thing.”

 

“All right,” said Vorkosigan, “I think I can see that. So we wouldn’t be buying things directly from you? We’d be dealing with others? Who? From what Vorpeter and the others have told me you don’t have anything like our emperor where you come from. We’d have to deal with merchants individually? Not with your government?”

 

Now Sheela looked to Tam for help. How _did_ these things work? She wished she’d taken some economics courses in school! She did know that Komarr as a whole did have trade treaties with other worlds. She supposed the treaties dealt with things like tariffs and import fees and customs inspections and the like. Tam just shrugged helplessly. Blast, she should have done some research while they were waiting for the Count… She pulled out her computer pad. “I can probably find out some of the information you want, my lord, just give me a few moments.”

 

“What is that thing?” demanded Vorkosigan, leaning forward.

 

“Yes,” said Professor Vorserran, “I’ve seen you fiddling with it from time to time and I wanted to ask that question myself.”

 

“Oh!” exclaimed Sheela. “It’s my computer pad. It’s a machine that holds all sort of information and can do calculations. Here, let me show you.” She activated the holo-projector and an image sprang into existence above the pad. The Barrayarans cried out in amazement. She mentally kicked herself for not showing them this before. The things you take for granted! The Count and his son and Vorserran came over to her sofa and crowded out Tam to get a closer look. Sheela called up information about Komarr and its government and trade fleets and they all studied how galactic commerce worked.

 

“This… this is astounding!” said Vorserran after a while, shaking his head. “Volumes and volumes inside that tiny box! And you say you can make it produce even more information? On other worlds? Mathematics and science?”

 

“Oh yes,” replied Sheela. “I have the entire University of Solstice library in here. And a lot more.”

 

“My lord,” said Vorserran turning to Vorkosigan. “We must acquire devices like this! The value is beyond calculation!” He turned back to Sheela. “Would you sell us things like this, my lady?”

 

“Uh, sure. They’re common items on our world. Not even very ex…” Tam cleared his throat noisily.

 

“I’m sure that there would be merchants willing to sell them to you,” he said. “I don’t know what they would charge. But that brings up the other half the situation: what does Barrayar have to offer in payment?”

 

“We have gold, silver, other metals, some kinds of gemstones,” said Vorkosigan. “What do you people use for money?”

 

“Well, that gets a bit complicated,” said Tam. “Gold and silver does have value, but money is very rarely ever in actual currency or coinage. It’s all recorded as credits and debits in computers. You do work or sell something and it’s recorded as a credit and added to your total. Buy something and the debit is subtracted.”

 

“Like bank vouchers,” said Vorserran, nodding his head. “Yes, we do have things like that, here.”

 

“But it’s always backed up by actual money in the vaults,” said Vorkosigan, frowning. “You say your economy runs on nothing but numbers stored in machines? What’s to prevent someone from just changing the numbers and making himself rich?”

 

Sheela restrained herself from saying that it had been tried (occasionally with success) and instead said: “There are safeguards to prevent illegalities like that, my lord. The system isn’t perfect, but it does work.”

 

“Yes,” said Tam. “So things of value that you have can be sold for credit and then you can buy the things you want using that credit.”

 

“And you probably have things here that have value that you haven’t even thought of,” added Sheela. “Artwork, for example, or even wood, which is quite rare on some worlds. And there are people who would pay just to come here and see the beauty of your world. Tourists.”

 

“Or settlers,” said Tam. “It seems like you have a lot of unsettled land. You could probably sell…”

 

“Vorkosigan frowned. “Anyone wishing to come here to stay would have to swear fealty to the Emperor.”

 

“Oh, well,” said Tam taken back. “I guess you’d have to deal with that on a case by case basis. But I’m sure Sheela is right: you have a lot of valuable things here.”

 

Sheela frowned. Upon reflection she wasn’t so sure. Yes, wood could be valuable, but valuable enough to bring starships here to transport it? Somehow she doubted it. And there was so much these people needed! How could they pay for it all? She could even see shrewd merchants charging them for basic knowledge. Any computer today came with a vast collection of reference sources as a standard feature—because people could get it for free almost anywhere. But here, as Vorserran had said, such ‘common’ knowledge would be priceless. In her mind’s eye she could see some galactic merchant telling the Barrayarans: ‘Oh yes, I have computers! Only a hundred Betan dollars! Oh, but the software is another five hundred. And then a power pack is another thousand. Oh, you need a power plant to charge the power pack? Well, now, that’s only a million…’ Damn. The thought of selling basic knowledge stuck in her craw. She wondered if she could show Vorserran—or the Count’s son—how to use her computer and then just sort of accidentally leave it behind…?

 

“Can your com-computer show us any pictures of your weapons?” asked the boy suddenly.

 

That idea roused all the Barrayarans and reluctantly Sheela called up data and vids on some of the more common weapons used in the Wormhole Nexus. They seemed particularly taken with the plasma arcs. One vid, of a man with a shoulder plasma arc blasting a small building to smithereens, she had to play again and again. Young Vorkosigan laughed in delight but his father frowned deeply.

 

“The sale of things like that would have to be strictly regulated,” he said. “We can’t have people coming here and selling them to anyone with a bag of gold!”

 

Sheela remembered her conversation earlier that day with Professor Vorserran. Yes, a hundred such weapons in the hands of a rebellious count could tear their fragile empire apart. “That… that shouldn’t be a problem,” she said. “You can establish a spaceport at your capital and insist that any traders land there and there only. You could have your own inspectors there to ensure that only those things that you approve of are sold.” She assumed that things were done that way on other worlds.

 

Vorkosigan seemed mollified and he asked to see the plasma arc vid again. A few minutes later the servant entered and asked about dinner. Business was put aside for a while and they had a pleasant meal. She guessed there must be a travelling kitchen in the next car since that was where all the food came from. She was grateful for the small bathroom the car boasted, too.

 

The train stopped once to take on more wood and refill its water tanks and then rumbled onward as the sun sank behind the mountains. The conversation became more general and Sheela showed them more and more things on her computer. All the Barrayarans had things they wanted to see or learn about and she was hard pressed to keep them all satisfied.

 

Night fell and the lanterns and candles in the car were lit. The train went more slowly and there were several stops and delays. From what Vorkosigan said they had to clear other trains from the track to make way.

 

Eventually the Count’s son fell asleep in his seat and Sheela ended her show of galactic wonders. The Count offered her the use of the bed in the compartment in the rear, but she declined. One by one they started to doze off in their seats and most of the candles were snuffed out. She tried to sleep, but the uneven motion of the train and her inner excitement defeated her attempts. Finally she pulled out her computer again and called up the stellar survey comparison she had started earlier. It had finished and there was an enormously long list of differences in stellar positions—as she had expected. She was quite certain that nearly all were trivial and predictable. But by narrowing her search parameters she quickly found the one change that was not trivial.

 

GC1402-389D. _Yes, yes, a red supergiant. That would make sense._

 

She flipped back and forth between the old star chart and the new one. A huge red star was gone. In its place was an expanding nebula with a neutron star at its center. In growing excitement she called up another star chart on which she superimposed the wormhole nexus. The result was very different from the usual maps of the nexus. Most people visualized the nexus as an ever-growing web of inhabited worlds linked together by the wormhole jump routes. And while that was true enough, they also instinctively assumed that worlds that were close together on the nexus maps were also close to each other in real space—and that wasn’t true at all. Except for Beta Colony, which _was_ close to Old Earth, having been colonized by sublight vessels, a world’s position on the nexus often had no relation at all to where the world was in the real universe. Barrayar, for example, was connected to the nexus through Komarr (thanks to Sheela) but in reality was over 1200 light years away. Several other inhabited worlds were actually much closer to Barrayar, but since there was no wormhole link between them, they might as well have been in another galaxy.

 

But GC1402-389D was only about forty light years away from Barrayar. And sometime about 450 years ago it had blown up, gone supernova, in a titanic explosion that had briefly outshown all the other stars in the Milky Way galaxy combined.. And at this moment, Sheela Lahn was the only human in the universe that knew about it.

 

Checking her chart she saw that in about twenty-five more years the news would reach Pol as the first of the light arrived.

 

The light had arrived at Barrayar much, much earlier. _The Great Fire._ Yes, this close to the cataclysm the sky would have truly seemed to be on fire. For a few days or weeks it would have been brighter than Barrayar’s own sun before slowly fading over a period of months. And close on the heels of the visible light would have been a storm of hard radiation. Without a strong planetary magnetic field to deflect it, it would have fried computers and other electronics and probably killed a lot of people outright. A disaster for the new colony. It was really amazing that they had survived at all.

 

And at some point, either before or after, the wormhole would have collapsed, cutting off any possible help from outside.

 

_Before or after? How soon would the redistribution of the supergiant’s mass have affected the gravitational equilibrium that created the wormhole? But wait, the wormhole from Komarr to Escobar collapsed around that time, too! That would indicate the effects were propagated faster than light!_ It was a popular theory, but no one had ever been able to prove it before. Was this the proof? Sheela began frantically entering information into her computer, every bit of sleepiness banished.

 

She was still at it when an especially strong lurch nearly threw her off her seat. With a squeal of brakes the train came to a halt. Almost everyone woke up and Count Vorkosigan swore. “Dammit, what now?” he snarled. He stood up and went through the door leading to the front of the train. Two of the armsmen went with him, leaving Arkadi Kurzov and another man behind.

 

Sheela sighed and tried to regain her train of thought. _Train of thought? What a stupid expression given what trains are really like!_ When _had_ that expression come into use? Probably after they had better trains than these! Despite her excitement, her fatigue was making her mind wander.

 

A loud _pop_ from outside caught her attention. What? More mechanical problems? But an instant later the two armsmen were on their feet with weapons in their hands. There was another pop and then a whole flurry of them. Something hit one of the windows and it shattered. Even more pops and they were much louder now with the glass gone.

 

“Get down!” shouted Kurzov. He bounded back to where Lord Vorkosigan was trying to see out a window and dragged the boy down to the floor.

 

“What… what’s happening?” cried Tam, who was on his knees.

 

“We’re under attack!”

 

_Gunfire… those pops are gunfire…_ It didn’t seem possible. Sheela crouched down next to Tam and stared around in bewilderment.

 

The front door of the car banged open and a man came through. Kurzov and the other armsman aimed their pistols, but held their fire. It was another one of the guards. “They’ve taken the second car!” he shouted. “The Count is in the front car with the other men, but we’re cut off back here!” He threw himself behind one of the seats and started doing something with his gun.

 

More shots and louder yet. Several more windows in the car were broken. The guards had snuffed out most of the lanterns and only a candle or two lent a pale flickering light to the space. Sheela crouched behind the sofa with Tam and the others. Vorpeter had both his sword and the long dagger drawn. Vorserran had his dagger in hand and even the boy had a knife.

 

Suddenly the door opened again and several men surged into the car. There was an instant of hesitation but then Kurzov and the other armsmen opened fire. Not friends this time! The first two intruders fell, one silently, but the other began to scream in a horrible fashion. Then there was fire in return and the armsman closest to the door went down with a yell. The lantern on the wall above Sheela shattered, showering her with glass.

 

Kurzov fired again, hitting another attacker, but then his gun seemed to be empty. He turned and tossed it and a small box he dug out of a pocket to young Vorkosigan. “Piotr! Reload!” he shouted and then drew a long knife.

 

“The stunner!” cried Sheela. Kurzov spared her an annoyed and puzzled glance. “The stunner you took from Weitzl!” A look of understanding came to his face and he thrust his hand into another pocket.

 

But then there was more firing and Kurzov suddenly twisted around and fell to the floor, the tiny stunner bounced out of his hand and came to rest beside her. For an instant she just stared in shock. The man’s face was covered in blood. Somehow her hand closed around the stunner but before she could make another move, the rear door, the one to the Count’s sleeping chamber, burst open and more men emerged.

 

A horribly loud bang assaulted her ears and a flash half-blinded her and she saw Lord Vorpeter flung against a sofa where he collapsed.  Professor Vorserran turned and lunged clumsily with his dagger, but a man carrying a rifle knocked the blade aside and rammed the butt of the weapon into the old man’s head. He fell next to Sheela, dazed, but not dead. Young Vorkosigan screamed something and actually managed to slash one of the attackers with his knife. The man cursed and raised a pistol but another man seized his wrist.

 

“Wait! It’s the Count’s son! Grab him!” There was brief tussle and the boy was caught. He kicked and yelled, but the man who had him was twice his size. More men pushed into the car and faces turned in her direction. Somehow, with scarcely a conscious thought, she slipped the stunner into her boot.

 

“Here’s one of them!” cried someone. A hand reached down and grabbed Tam’s tunic. Someone loomed over her with a gun in his hand. “Who are you?” he demanded.

 

“Sh… Sheela Lahn… from K-Komarr,” she managed to stutter.

 

“From the stars?”

 

“Uh… yeah…”

 

“Take them!” snapped the man. “The boy, too!”

 

Impossibly strong hands grabbed her and dragged her to her feet. She and Tam and the still struggling Vorkosigan were hustled through the Count’s compartment and out the rear of the train. Sheela choked back an exclamation when she saw three more bodies sprawled there.

 

A small crowd of men and a larger crowd of horses were waiting. She was hoisted aboard one of the beasts and managed to find the stirrups without falling off again. Tam was similarly mounted and the boy was just slung across the saddle of another rider, face down and feet kicking in the air.

 

“All right, let’s go,” said a voice.

 

“What about the Count?” said another. “If we could kill him…”

 

“No good. He’s barricaded in the front car with a dozen guards. And we’ve lost too many men already. We’ve got what we came for, let’s get out while we can!”

 

A man seized the reins of Sheela’s horse and with a jerk they started forward. Riders were all around her and there was no hope of escape.

 

A last few shots rang out behind them and then the train was swallowed up by the night.

 

 

 

Chapter 5

 

 

Arkadi came to his senses lying on his back and with a pounding pain in his head. He groaned and fumbled around with his hand trying to find his pistol, his dagger, some sort of weapon… Why? Why did he…? _Attackers!_ Someone was attacking the train! A gurgling yell escaped his lips and he tried to push himself upright.

 

“Whoa! Whoa there, Arkadi!” came a shout and someone much stronger than he pushed him back down. “Settle down, man! There’s no danger now!” A face hovered over him and he recognized one of the Count’s armsmen, Andre Goldcamp. He blinked and tried to turn his head, which sent a new wave of pain through it.

 

“What…? The Count…? Piotr…?” He mumbled.

 

“The Count’s fine. Not a scratch. Well, maybe some bruises from where Ivan had to sit on him, but he’s all right.” Andre looked at him closely. “How are you feeling?”

 

“Head’s gonna explode, I think. But the boy? What about the boy?”

 

“Not surprised about the head,” said Andre. “Bullet creased your skull. Don’t think the bone’s broken, but you’re gonna have to rest easy for a while.”

 

“Dammit! What about Piotr?” snarled Arkadi. He found the strength to grab Andre’s tunic in his fist.

 

The look on his comrade’s face told him almost everything before he could open his mouth. “They took him, Arkadi. Nothing you could have done so don’t flog yourself. I know you will anyway, but it’s water over the dam now. We’re pretty sure he’s alive, though. And we’ll get him back.”

 

Arkadi groaned and he let go of Andre. Gone! His charge, his whole reason for being, had been snatched away. He had failed! His oath to the Count, to himself… But if Piotr was still alive… He looked around and saw that he was on one of the sofas in the railroad car. Morning sunlight was streaming in through the windows, many of which had been shot out. The noise of men’s voices came to his ears and to his nose the smell of horses mingled with the smell of gunpowder—and death.

 

In spite of Goldcamp’s protests he pushed himself upright. There were a hundred or more horsemen outside, Imperial dragoons from the look of their uniforms. Closer at hand there was broken glass and debris all over the floor of the car. The sofa opposite him had an ugly stain, browner than the fabric.

 

“What were our losses?”

 

“Four of the armsmen dead, five more wounded—including you. A couple of servants hurt. Lord Vorserran took a nasty knock, but he’ll be all right. Lord Vorpeter… well…” Goldcamp shook his head.

 

“Dead?”

 

“Not yet, but probably before the end of the day. Gutshot.” He nodded toward the other sofa and then back toward the Count’s private chamber.

 

Arkadi grimaced. “What about the two aliens?”

 

“Taken. With the boy. The Count is thinking that’s who they were really after.”

 

Yeah, yeah, that made a certain sense, he supposed. It was hard to think…“So why aren’t those troopers after them?”

 

“One squadron already is. After the attackers left, we sent a rider to the next station and he telegraphed for help. The dragoons arrived just before dawn. These boys here are for the Count’s security. The bastards barricaded the track to stop us. As soon as it’s cleared, we’ll get moving again.”

 

“Who were they, Andre?”

 

“Well, as you’d expect, the ones we killed didn’t have anything on them to identify them. We did take one of their wounded, but he didn’t reveal anything much before he died. Some damn bravo by the look and sound of him. A hired gun. A half-dozen different counts could be behind this.”

 

Arkadi leaned back and sighed. Yeah, the counts might have been legally limited to twenty armsmen, but that didn’t prevent them from having more in secret, or hiring others at need. A few counts, like that Vorkrumper down south, deliberately swore armsmen to them and then after a few years ‘let them go’ and swore new ones, creating a ‘secret’ reserve. And with the old counts’ armies demobilized there were plenty of trained men who had been unwilling to take the Emperor’s colors still floating around looking for work—although they were all starting to get a bit old for things like what happened last night. And then there were the local militias…

 

Still, considering how quickly the ambush had been arranged, the number of likely suspects could be narrowed down dramatically. Only two or three could have learned of the situation and had the time to get men into position. “I’ve got to get on their trail while it’s still fresh,” he said.

 

“Don’t be a fool, man!” exclaimed Goldcamp. “You probably can’t even stand up, let alone ride!”

 

“I can stand…” But he couldn’t. He pushed himself up off the sofa a tiny bit and then a wave of dizziness gripped him and he collapsed back on the cushions. “Help me up, dammit.”

 

“I’ll do no such thing! You’re going to rest and get your strength back. Then we’ll all go out and pay those bastards back. All right?”

 

It went against everything in him, but he knew Goldcamp was right: in his present state he was useless.

 

“All right?” asked Goldcamp again.

 

“Yes, yes, all right.”

 

“Good. Now rest easy. I’ll be back in a bit with some soup for you.” The man moved off.

 

He closed his eyes, but he was still awake when the train lurched into motion.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Piotr Vorkosigan glared as the man untied his wrists from the pommel of his saddle. “All right, get down and stretch your legs,” said the man. “Ten minutes and we’re moving again. Don’t try any tricks, my lord. You won’t get five feet—and I’ll make sure you regret it.” The man smiled nastily at him, but Piotr just slid off the horse and turned away. The others, the two aliens, were also dismounting under the watchful eyes of their captors. The man groaned and complained loudly. The woman said nothing but looked around warily.

 

It was about an hour after dawn and the party was in a pine woods that blocked the view in every direction. Piotr didn’t know exactly where they were, but he had a pretty good guess. They had been a little over halfway to Vorbarr Sultana when the train was ambushed. From there they had travelled west, and maybe a bit north. They had ridden hard and the ground wasn’t too difficult and attackers had brought spare horses, so they could easily have covered seventy or eighty miles by now, although probably not in a straight line. At his father’s urging Piotr had studied maps intensively along with his other subjects. They were almost certainly in the eastern part of Count Vortaine’s district. Was he behind this? It didn’t seem likely, Count Vortaine was on good terms with his father and a stout supporter of the Emperor. No, whoever these men were, they were just passing through to somewhere else. But where? He looked at the foam-flecked and gasping horses. Wherever they were going it wasn’t going to be on those poor beasts.

 

As if in answer to his thoughts, there was a low shout and then two men appeared on horseback leading a dozen fresh horses. They were welcomed by the man who seemed to be in charge of the party. No names had been given, but he was clearly Vor and very much in command. Who was he? And what was this all about? From what had been said in the train, the attack had not been aimed to kill his father and apparently even his own capture was just a by-product of the raid.

 

_They want the aliens._

 

Before he could pursue that thought any further, the enemy leader motioned to some of his men and Piotr and the aliens were brought before him. “We’ll be moving on in a few minutes,” he said. “Search those two.” He indicated the male alien, Captain Hodgkins, and himself. The leader nodded his head at the woman, Lady Sheela. “Your pardon, milady.” Piotr suffered himself to be searched, but they found no weapons and didn’t take anything else from him, not even the five-mark piece in his pocket. They took pretty much everything Hodgkins had if it looked unusual. The leader gently patted down the woman but only took her _computer_. Then he squatted down and patted her legs and then got to her feet and froze with his hand on her right boot. The woman stiffened and let out a little gasp. But the man just grinned and stood up. “You may retain your blade, milady, if you promise to do nothing foolish with it.”

 

“Uh… of course,” said the woman, who was pale as a ghost.

 

The man looked at Lady Sheela’s computer and then at the identical one taken from Captain Hodgkins. “What are these?” he demanded.

 

“Uh, recording devices,” said Lady Sheela. “For taking notes of conversations and things like that. What are you going to do with us, sir?”

 

“Have no fear. Listen, all of you,” said the man loudly to his men. “These people are all guests of… well, of your employer. They are to be treated with every courtesy, or suffer the consequences. Understand?” There was a low murmur of assent from the men.

 

“Now just a minute,” said Hodgkins. “Who are you people and where are you taking us? We’re guests of this emperor of yours…”

 

“No, you are guests of _ours_ , sir,” said the man sternly. “I apologize for the inconvenience, but all will be made clear shortly. Now,” he turned to take in all three of them, “we’ll be in the saddle for quite a while. If any of you need to attend to necessities, I suggest you do so now. Milady, there’s a clump of bushes over there and I assure you that you will have privacy. Just don’t try to run off, eh?”

 

Lady Sheela nodded and walked toward the bushes. Piotr turned away and undid the buttons of his trousers.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sheela reached the bushes and glanced around to see if she really was out of sight. She’d nearly passed out when her captor had felt the stunner in her boot. But he’d let her keep it! Why? He said something about a blade, did he think it was a knife? And if so why would he let her keep that?

 

No time to worry about it. She touched the tiny microphone clipped to her vest. They hadn’t realized that it was anything, probably thought it was a piece of jewelry or something. “Danno? Danno, can you hear me?” she whispered.

 

“Hey, Sheela, I can hardly hear you, speak up, will you?” She shivered in relief when she heard the jump pilot’s voice in her earbud.

 

“Danno!” she hissed. “I can only talk a moment, so shut up and listen! We’ve been kidnapped…”

 

_“What!”_

“The train was attacked and Tam and I and the boy have been carried off. We’re okay for the moment, but you need to get word to Count Vorkosigan and his people.”

 

“What? How? Where are you?”

 

“You can track us, can’t you? Plot our position and get it to Ian! He can use their telegraph to get word to the authorities.”

 

“But what are we going to do?” She could hear the panic in Danno’s voice. She was feeling pretty panicked herself.

 

“I don’t…”

 

“Are you all right, milady?” came a voice from beyond the bushes. The tone of it told her she had run out of time.

 

“I’ll be right there,” she answered back. “Danno! Just do it! I’ve got to go!”

 

Unfortunately, she _did_ have to go and there had been no time to do it. She was just going to have to suffer. She emerged from the bushes, pretending to straighten her clothing. The fresh horses were waiting for them. Tam and the boy had already mounted. She noticed that Tam didn’t have his hands tied, but the boy did. The leader offered her a boost up on the horse and she thanked him.

 

And then they were off. She and Tam and the boy and nine escorts. The rest of the men seemed to be staying behind with the tired horses. She looked at them in puzzlement and then Lord Vorkosigan caught her eye. “They’ll try to draw off any pursuers,” he said quietly.

 

Their horses were fresh, but unfortunately, she wasn’t . She’d been awake all night and much of the previous night and even though she was getting used to the horses, she had no experience at long rides. It used a different set of muscles than she usual used and they were getting very tired and sore. The inside of her legs were being chaffed raw, too. How long could she keep this up? Tam seemed like he was sinking into some sort of stupor.

 

But it was clear that their captors were in a hurry. From young Vorkosigan’s comment she had to assume that there were rescuers on their trail and their captors were the ones in danger now. But they were on their way somewhere, presumably to some refuge away from pursuit. Danno ought to be able to track them precisely. Her tiny transmitter was linked to her computer pad which could communicate with the ship. Before they had come down they had placed several small repeaters in orbit spaced around the planet so that they would have clear lines of communications even when the ship’s orbit took it to the other side of the planet. As long as her ‘pad was within ten kilometers she’d have a link to the ship and they could track her—or her ‘pad anyway.

 

But would that do any good? The crew of the good ship _Fool’s Luck_ was not going to be able to come and rescue them, that was for sure! There might have been one or two more stunners on board, but nothing more lethal than that. Tam Hodgkin’s hardy band would last about ten seconds against the experienced fighters surrounding them. They were going to need help, and the only help available was from Count Vorkosigan and his emperor. Considering that they had his son, Sheela had no doubt that Vorkosigan was already in pursuit, but they could make it so much easier for them by telling them where they were!

 

And who were their captors? They’d come specifically to capture Tam and her, so they knew they were off-worlders and they wanted them badly. For what? Weapons? It was the only possibility that made sense to her. Some rival of the emperor, hoping to throw off his rule with modern weapons?

 

They rode in silence for about twenty minutes and then Ian called her. “Sheela? Sheela? Can you talk?”

 

She absently brushed the microphone. “No. I’ll listen.” She whispered.

 

“Understood. Okay, we’ve got your location plotted. Maybe two hundred kilometers northwest of here and heading west. I tried to get a message through to Vorkosigan, but they already know about the attack. The people here, I mean. There are about forty of them with guns all around the shuttle. To protect us they say. I told them the information about your location, and they said they would send it along. I’m not sure what else we can do right now, Sheela. Me and the Weasel aren’t exactly equipped to come get you. About all I can do is keep tracking you and keep passing it along. I guess… I guess I’ll call you later when something happens. And I’ll keep my ear glued to the com listening for you!” There was a long pause and then: “Good luck, girl.”

 

Sheela sighed and tried to find a more comfortable position on the damn horse.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

By the time the train ground to a halt at the station in Vorbarr Sultana, Arkadi was feeling quite a lot better. Not good, mind you, but better. He could stand and he’d kept some food down. A large bandage wrapped much of his head, but he could see and walk and possibly even think, too.

 

There was a large escort of cavalry waiting for them and as one of the walking wounded, he found himself in the big carriage that the Emperor had sent for the Count. The head armsman, Ivan Karal, was there, too. Lord Vorpeter had survived the train ride and a doctor was waiting, but no one held any hope for him. Lord Boriz Vorpatril, another of the Emperor’s trusted men, was in command of the escort and rode in the carriage. Vorkosigan, who had been fidgeting and fuming at the slow pace of the train seemed ready to explode.

 

“Who was it, Boriz?” demanded the Count once the carriage door was closed and the vehicle moving. “This wasn’t some random bandit attack or even an assassination attempt! They knew where we’d be and knew who we’d be carrying! The information must have come from the palace!”

 

“Yes, my lord, that much is crystal clear,” replied Vorpatril. “We’re turning over every stone to find the spy, but so far we’ve found nothing for certain. But we have had one piece of luck. Apparently the aliens have some sort of long-distance communications device…”

 

“Yes, yes, I know that. They demonstrated them to us!” said Vorkosigan dismissively.

 

“But apparently whoever snatched them doesn’t know that,” said Vorpatril with a grin. “They didn’t take them away and the woman has managed to contact their ship. We’ve gotten several telegraphs from Vorkosigan Surleau and the aliens are able to track her location. We know where they are, my lord!”

 

Arkadi sat up straighter and so did the Count. “Where?” they asked simultaneously.

 

Vorpatril glanced at Arkadi and frowned, but the Count waved for him to go on.

 

“Vortaine’s district and heading northwest. They’d be getting close to the town of Hammel by now.”

 

“Well, we can be sure that Vortaine’s not behind this, they’re just passing through his district. But Hammel, there’s a railway line that goes through there isn’t there? Can we get some troops up that way?”

 

“Yes the line runs through the town, and half an hour ago the telegraph through there and to points north and west went dead. Wires probably cut.”

 

“Damn, they’re going to meet up with a train! I’d bet everything I own on it!” The Count was frowning ferociously.

 

“No doubt, my lord. And they’ll probably cut the tracks after they are gone so we can’t pursue. The Emperor has ordered a train full of troops to try and get through anyway and a regiment of cavalry has been dispatched as well.”

 

“They’ll be long gone by the time anything reaches there, damn it. So, the question now is where these bastards are heading?”

 

“Not too many choices heading northwest on the railway from Hammels, my lord.”

 

“No, assuming the direction isn’t just some ruse to throw us off. But I have to keep reminding myself they can’t know we are tracking them so precisely. They have probably detached men to try and trick the dragoons we sent after them while the main party went in another direction. But as long as we know where the aliens are, we have them pegged.”

 

“Almost has to be Count Vorstakof, my lord,” said Arkadi unable to stay silent any longer. “Him or Count Vorlane.”

 

“Yes… yes,” said the Count. “Or both acting together. Certainly those two would be very high on the list of suspects.” The carriage made a turn and the Count looked out the window and then at Vorpatril. “Where are we going?”

 

“Vorkosigan House.”

 

“Not the palace?”

 

“We know there’s at least one spy in the palace. Hopefully you have better security, my lord. The emperor will be waiting for us there.”

 

“Ah. Good thinking. And I’m assuming you have trusted men in place at the telegraph office. It doesn’t necessarily have to be someone actually in the palace.”

 

“We’ve looked into that, my lord, but that avenue seems to be secure.”

 

“Has _anyone_ been arrested? Are Vorstakof and Vorlane in the capital?”

 

“Vortsakof was here until yesterday. He seems to have vanished since then.” Vorkosigan nodded and cursed under his breath.

 

The carriage and the escort clattered down the cobblestone streets in the gathering dusk. As they neared the mansion, the streets were illuminated by some of the new electric lights that were coming into use in the capital. Suddenly the Count muttered: “Damn.”

 

“My lord?” said Vorpatril.

 

“Has my wife been informed about our son?”

 

“The Emperor was going to inform her, my lord.”

 

“Good. Good, she won’t go into hysterics in front of Dorca.”

 

“We’re going to get him back, my lord,” said Arkadi. “I promise you!” The Count gave him a grim smile and nodded.

 

The carriage turned through the gate of Vorkosigan House and the Count was out almost before it came to a stop. Vorpatril, Karal and Arkadi were on his heels. Arkadi’s legs still felt wobbly, but he forced himself to keep up. A group of armsmen wearing the Vorbara colors were waiting and in short order they were in one of the large sitting rooms on the second floor. The Emperor was there along with the Count’s wife. She looked worried, but in control of herself. She briefly embraced her husband and then Vorkosigan was clasping hands with Dorca.

 

“Welcome back,” said the Emperor. “Has Vorpatril brought you up to date?”

 

“Yes, Sire. So what’s our next move?”

 

“Well, getting your boy back is near the top of the list, of course, but I’m afraid not quite at the very top, I’m sorry.”

 

“Yes, Sire, I know. This is a desperate move by whoever is behind it. They’re putting everything on one throw of the dice and it has to be in hopes of getting their hands on alien weaponry and rising up against you.”

 

“Yes,” nodded Dorca. “My thoughts exactly.”

 

“And we have to prevent that, Sire. Before the attack they showed us moving pictures of some of their weapons. A few hundred of them could annihilate the Imperial army in open battle.”

 

“As powerful as that?” The Emperor looked taken aback.

 

“I’m afraid so. And I was led to believe that what they showed us was about their equivalent of one of our rifles. Much more powerful weapons must exist.”

 

“I suppose they hope to use the two aliens they took to force the others to deal with them rather than us.”

 

“I’m afraid it’s even worse than that, Sire.” Dorca looked at the Count. “These aliens are here simply to make money. They don’t care who they make it off of. They are happy to deal with us, but they’d be just as happy to equip these rebels and then deal with them after they have overthrown you.”

 

Dorca frowned and turned away for a moment. He walked over to one of the tall windows, hands clasped behind his back. The Emperor was nearly sixty, but still fit and vigorous. He stared out for a few minutes and then nodded his head. He turned back to face the rest of them.

 

“Well! We can’t allow that, can we? At the moment, the rebels—whoever they are—are waiting for their hostages to be delivered to them. From all we know, that can’t happen for at least a while, perhaps several days. We can use that time to ensure that the aliens will only be dealing with us. Count Vorkosigan.”

 

“Sire?”

 

“You have men guarding the remaining aliens and their ship at Vorkosigan Surleau, correct?”

 

“Yes, Sire.”

 

“And these aliens are in regular contact with your men there, updating us on the position of their abducted comrades?”

 

“Yes, Sire.”

 

“All right then. The original plan was for them to relocate their ship to the capital once their comrades had arrived. We shall move ahead with that plan. Contact your people and have them insist that the aliens move their ship here immediately. Land it right next to the palace. They will not take no for an answer. Understood?”

 

“Yes, Sire! At once!”

 

The room seemed to explode into action with people moving and talking all at once. But Arkadi had no orders. He was obliged to stand there while other men acted. All during the trip back to Vorbarr Sultana he’d tried to convince himself that he had done everything he possibly could to protect the boy. That no man could have done more. He hadn’t come even close to succeeding.

 

But they would get the boy back. _He_ would get the boy back—or die trying.

 

 

Chapter 6

 

 

Lord Piotr Vorkosigan leaned against the wooden side of the railway box car and studied the people around him. Their captors, eight of them anyway, were clustered at the opposite end of the car, chewing bread and passing a bottle of wine around. The other one, the leader, was somewhere else on the train. Presumably there were still more of these enemies aboard, someone stopped the train for them, after all. His father was having him instructed in tactics and he did have a natural talent for it. He had evaluated the current tactical situation and he had to admit that by any standard it was pretty bad.

 

The men in the car were keeping an eye on them, but giving them a bit of privacy. The noise of the train would prevent them overhearing anything he and the two aliens might say to each other. The mere fact that they were being allowed this privacy indicated they didn’t think there was anything of importance to overhear. Several of the men kept eyeing the woman. He hoped the leader’s warning would keep them under control. If not…

 

“Lady Sheela,” he said just loudly enough for her to hear.

 

“Yes?”

 

“Do you have your knife?”

 

“What? No, I don’t have a knife.” The woman looked surprised.

 

“But the man felt it in your boot when he searched you!” protested the boy.

 

“No,” she said and her voice fell. “That’s the stunner. Arkadi… Armsman Kurzov dropped it and I put it in my boot.”

 

“What?” said the other one, Captain Hodgkins, much too loudly. “You’ve got a stunner?”

 

“ _Shh!_ Yes, but don’t get any wild ideas, Tam! D’you really think I could get all eight of those thugs before they shot us all down?” Hodgkins looked at their captors and after a moment shrugged. “If the right time comes we can try to make a break, but this just isn’t the right time. Be patient.”

 

“Hey, I _am_ the captain!”

 

“Oh please,” said the woman rolling her eyes. She turned back to Piotr. “Why did he think I have a knife. And why did he let me keep it?”

 

“Your vorfemme knife. Vor ladies carry them to… uh… protect their honors. Not usually much of a weapon, really.”

 

“Huh,” said the woman. “I did notice the little pocket inside the boot. I didn’t know what it was for.” She looked at Piotr and then at the men and back at him. Her expression was uneasy. “Am I… uh… likely to have to guard my honor?”

 

“I hope not. But if you have that weapon… can you use it?”

 

“I think so. If I have to. But it does just knock people unconscious. Not that big of a threat, really.”

 

“ _They_ don’t know that,” he said with a small grin. “If you start shooting and they start falling, the others are going to be scared by it.”

 

“Yeah, scared enough to blast all of us, just like she said,” growled Hodgkins.

 

“Lady Sheela is right: we have to wait for the right moment.”

 

“Look, we should be able to talk our way out of this. They clearly want something from us. We just find out what it is and negotiate!”

 

Piotr looked at the man and frowned. _They want your fancy weapons! And you propose just giving them to them?_ The thought had been growing in him all during their journey. Whoever was behind this wants the alien weapons and obviously is not in the Emperor’s service! A rebellion. If successful the Emperor would be killed, all his closest supporters would be killed. His father. Him…

 

He could not allow that to happen.

 

And the only leverage the traitors had were these two aliens. Without them, they had nothing, nothing at all. So, either an escape had to be engineered…

 

…or the aliens had to die.

 

He didn’t like the idea and he hoped it wouldn’t come to that, but his duty was clear: prevent the enemy—whoever they were—from getting any of those wondrous and terrifying weapons they had seen pictures of on the train yesterday. He was sure his father would want him to do whatever was necessary.

 

“Perhaps tonight,” whispered the woman. “They’ll have to sleep. If they do it in shifts and only a couple are awake. Maybe then.”

 

Captain Hodgkins just grunted and shook his head, but Piotr nodded. “Good thinking! We’ll have to look for our chance.”

 

“Yes, we can… oh, hold on a moment. Message coming in.” She brushed her hand on her vest and then became still. Piotr looked closely and saw the tiny device still clipped to her vest. She could communicate with the other aliens?

“Yes, yes, we’re still okay,” she said. “We’re on a train now. Shut up in a car with no windows. Can’t tell where we’re going. What? Oh dear. Yes, I understand. Well, call again when you get there. It’s noisy enough in here that I can talk a bit. Right. Good luck.”

 

“Why the hell didn’t you tell me you still had your com?” hissed Hodgkins when she was finished.

 

“I couldn’t exactly shout it out to you while we were on the horses, could I?” she snapped back. “This has been the first opportunity. And where the hell is yours?”

 

Hodgkins blushed. “I took it off when I was trying to sleep on the train and there was no time to grab it.” The woman glared at him. “Well, the damn ear bud itches!”

 

“But you have been in contact with your friends?” demanded Piotr. “Have you told them what’s happening? Can they contact my father?”

 

“Yes,” she whispered. “When they let me use the bushes at our first stop. Your father is fine, my lord. He’s sent soldiers after us. Oh, and Arkadi was only wounded and not badly. My friends can pinpoint our location. But… but your father also put some of his men on our shuttle and they are… well, forcing Ian and Mr. Weitzl to come to your capital city. They are on their way now.”

 

“What?” snapped Hodglins. “Great! So we’re all hostages now!”

 

“Guests of the Emperor, is what they told Ian,” said Lady Sheela.

 

“Yeah right! What a bloody mess! We never should have landed!”

 

The two aliens snarled at each other for a bit, but Piotr found himself relaxing. Arkadi was alive! He’d refused to allow himself to grieve all the way here, but the image of his protector lying inert and blood-covered on the rail car floor had never left him. He knew his father was safe from what the attackers had said, but he had truly feared for his guardian. But he was alive. And with the other two aliens and their ship in the Emperor’s hands, the danger of the rebels getting the weapons was much, much less. Of course once the rebels realized that, their value as hostages was much less, too. His own value was still high, or it would have been in a normal situation. This was anything but normal. There was no threat of death or torture that would make the Emperor give in. Not on an issue like this. And his father would understand. He was Vor. Just as Piotr was. Being Vor meant duty… and sacrifice.

 

But the situation was now much simpler. He didn’t have to save the Empire—he just had to save himself and the others.

 

If he could.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sheela spent most of the day working out scenarios in her head about how she could use the stunner to escape. If six or even five of the guards fell asleep when night came she thought that maybe she could stun the others before they could give an alarm and wake the others. Two or three guards, she might be able to do it. Danno called her and told her that the shuttle was now at the capital, parked right next to the emperor’s palace. Ian and Weitzl were being treated courteously, but they had been told quite plainly that they would not be permitted to make any deals with anyone except the emperor. Even if that meant sacrificing her and the others. Tam had been frantic, he was quite willing to make any deal with anyone to save his skin. Well, if it came down to it, so was she. The thought of plunging this world into a bloody civil war horrified her, but she didn’t really owe these people anything. Did she? But if they could escape she’d never have to face that decision.

 

All of her escape fantasies came to nothing when the train stopped late in the afternoon at a small village where a large body of horsemen was waiting for them. She’d been allowed to relieve herself before boarding the train so she wasn’t in any great distress now, but she was still glad for the chance to use a small outhouse. She checked in with Danno, but there was no real change to the situation except that a railroad bridge over a large river had been destroyed after they passed to block any quick pursuit. The emperor was mobilizing his forces, but they could not expect any rescue for days or weeks.

 

The same man who had spoken to them before still seemed to be in command. “Again I apologize for all this,” he said. “But just another day or so and we’ll be in much more comfortable quarters and you will be able to meet with your host.”

 

Tam tried to negotiate with the man, but he deflected all questions. Sheela was afraid that Tam was going to blurt out something about the others and the shuttle being in the hands of the Emperor and give away the secret of their communications, but the man moved away after just a few moments and Tam subsided. They were put on horses again and Sheela’s muscles and skin screamed in pain. She had really stiffened up on the train and she had some awful blisters. But there was nothing for it and they were soon on the move again. There were mountains all around them now. The railroad followed a small river and the train chugged off, but their captors took them along a narrow road that wound its way up and up and up.

 

Young Vorkosigan was looking around intently, but he was too far away to speak to. Tam seemed sunk in his own gloom again so she sat her horse in silence until they finally stopped for the night. The new additions to their captors were better equipped and a small tent was set up for her use. Guards were placed next to it and after a meal she was provided with a pot of hot water, towels and some soap. She gladly did some washing, although she confined it to face, hands and her legs and feet. She winced when she cleaned the blisters on her legs. She tore some of the towels into strips that she could use to bind her wounds and hopefully give her some protection tomorrow. She briefly fingered the stunner in her boot, but a glance through the tent flaps showed far too many alert men to try and make an escape. Tam and Vorkosigan were kept close to one of the fires.

 

A final communications check before she went to sleep didn’t provide much useful information. Apparently they were in the district of a Count Vorstakof now, although that meant nothing to her. Imperial troops were getting across the big river and following the railroad. She told Danno they were no longer on the railroad, but he knew that, of course. “Looks like they’re taking you up into some pretty rough mountains, Sheela,” he said. That, she was well aware of. They clicked off and she was quickly asleep despite her fears.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Arkadi Kurzov stood near the door of the Emperor’s conference chamber and listened while he, Count Vorkosigan, and half a dozen advisors bargained with the two aliens. He was glad to be here where the decisions were being made, but he longed to be in the saddle, riding hard on the heels on the enemy and their captives. His head was continuing to improve and the bandage on it was smaller today. He felt confident that he could ride—but when would he be given the chance?

 

“So then we are agreed?” asked the Emperor. “You will deliver one hundred of these… plasma arc rifles and all their appurtenances in return for two thousand pounds of gold?”

 

Arkadi winced at the enormous sum named. You could outfit, supply, and pay ten regiments for a year with a fortune like that! He couldn’t believe that the aliens’ armies paid anywhere near so much! Still, he could understand Dorca’s logic. At this stage the critical thing was to bind the aliens to the Empire. The weapons themselves were almost incidental, as long as they were delivered here and not into Vorstakof’s hands. And it was Vorstakof. There couldn’t be any more doubt about that. Traitor!

 

“Yes, we can do that,” answered the alien merchant. “But you realize it will take us over a month to go back to Komarr, get the items and return here.”

 

“So you have said. That is agreeable to us. When can you leave?”

 

“As soon as we get our people back!” exclaimed the engineer. “Weitzl, we can’t just leave Tam and Sheela here!”

 

“I thought we’d settled that,” said the one named Weitzl in a smooth and oily voice. Arkadi didn’t like the man at all. “While we go and bring back the goods, His Majesty will see about retrieving our missing shipmates.”

 

“No, we did not settle it! I will not just abandon them!”

 

“We are not abandoning them, Mr. Cummings. And it’s not like we can do anything ourselves. We have no choice but to …”

 

“The hell with that! I am not budging until we have them back. You can’t fly the shuttle, Weitzl and I won’t! I’ve already talked to Danno and he agrees with me so he won’t bring you back all safe and snug, either!”

 

“Oh, for God’s sake!” snapped Weitzl. “Be reasonable, man!” The engineer just folded his arms and glared at the other alien. In spite of himself Arkadi was impressed. The man wouldn’t abandon his comrades even for a colossal sum of money. Perhaps these Komarrans had more honor than he’d first thought. Or some of them did, anyway. Weitzl was furious.

 

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty,” he said to the Emperor. “Give me a chance to persuade him.”

 

Dorca nodded. “Yes, it’s been a long day. Why don’t we all take a break. Perhaps we can talk again after dinner.” He stood up and everyone else did likewise. Several of his armsmen escorted the aliens out, but no one else left and the door was shut again.

 

“So,” said the Emperor. “What do you think?”

 

“It doesn’t actually matter if they go and bring back the weapons for us, Sire,” said Count Vorkosigan. “At least not in the short term. Just so long as they don’t bring back weapons for Vorstakof. We just need to keep the aliens tied up here in negotiations while we run that bastard to ground.”

 

“Yes, my thoughts exactly. And what progress is being made in that direction, General Vorstein?” The emperor turned to a man in an elaborate uniform.

 

“We’ve pushed a brigade of cavalry across the Gershwon River, Sire, and enough infantry to secure the far shore until we can get the bridge rebuilt. We’ve repaired the telegraph lines to that point so we have good communications with General Vorberg.  The forward elements of the cavalry are reporting stiffening resistance ahead of them. Apparently, Vorstakof has raised the whole countryside in rebellion.”

 

“Just local militia, Sire,” said another officer. “Once we’re across the river in force our troops will push them aside in an hour.”

 

“Don’t be so sure about that, Karl,” said Vorkosigan. “The country gets more and more mountainous beyond the Gershwon. They’ll burn or blow every bridge, block the road with fallen trees. Raiding parties will try to cut our supply lines. It could take weeks to reach Vorstakof Savoy.”

 

“But that’s not where the hostages are, is it, my lord?” asked Lord Vorpatril.

 

“No, but they want us to think they are, and as long as they don’t know about our secret communications with the aliens, we want to make them think we’ve taken the bait.”

 

“So where are they now, really?” asked Dorca.

 

“Pretty far up into the mountains off to the west of the main road, Sire. If I recall, Vorstakof has a hunting lodge in that area. They are probably heading there. I believe that his strategy is to try and draw us off toward Vorstakof Savoy, make us waste our time there while he arranges to get the alien weapons and then hit us from behind.”

 

“Makes sense,” nodded Dorca. “So what do we do about it?”

 

“I’d suggest that we keep pushing with the bulk of our forces along the railway to keep him thinking we’ve fallen for the ruse. But at the same time we can peel off columns of cavalry to try and get at him where he really is. The aliens have provided us with some amazingly detailed maps of the area and there are several possible routes to approach the place.”

 

“What about the other counts?” asked the Emperor. “Is there any sign that any of them are preparing to join Vorstakof?”

 

Another man, Dorca’s head of intelligence, Arkadi thought, shook his head. “None of them openly. A half-dozen have close ties with him, but all indications are this whole situation has taken them by surprise.”

 

The Emperor nodded. “Yes, no one could have predicted the arrival of the aliens. My guess is that Vorstakof just panicked when he got the news.”

 

“Yes, Sire. I’m sure he’s sent them messages, probably made them promises about the alien weapons. But they aren’t going to move until he has the weapons in hand.”

 

“Then we have to make damn sure he never gets them, agreed?”

 

Everyone answered in the affirmative and then Dorca looked toward the Count. “I’m sorry about your boy, Vorkosigan. Hopefully Vorstakof will realize that there’s no point in harming any of the hostages, once we’ve got him cornered with no alien weapons to save him.”

 

“Yes, Sire. And thank you.”

 

“We’ll get them all back. Now, if we’ve covered everything for the moment, I will see you all again after dinner.”

 

They were clearly dismissed and everyone slowly filed out of the room. Arkadi took the opportunity to approach the Count. “My lord, I was wondering if you’d permit me to join one of those cavalry columns you were talking about? If I took the train now I could catch up and…”

 

His lord looked at him and smiled briefly and then shook his head. “I need you here, Arkadi. I’m short nine armsmen as it is and even though I know there is no one on Barrayar who will try harder to get Piotr back, I can’t see that one more man with any of those columns will make much difference.”

 

“But…”

 

“Sorry, but my mind’s made up. Now go and get some rest. Your wound isn’t healed yet.”

 

Arkadi bowed stiffly and said: “Yes, my lord count.” He watched Vorkosigan walk off with Ivan Karal. It seemed odd to see him without Lord Vorpeter. He had died the previous night. His wife and family were on the way to the capital for the funeral.

 

Arkadi sighed and headed for the quarters he’d been assigned in the palace. It seemed a bit silly with Vorkosigan House not that far away, but the Emperor wanted his most important men close by and the Count wanted _his_ men close by. They still hadn’t found the spy, but the palace was locked up tight as a drum and it would be very hard for unauthorized messages to get out. Of course it was no secret to anyone that the alien vessel was now sitting next to the palace and the word would quickly leak out despite every precaution. But Vorstakof was probably at that hunting lodge waiting for the aliens to arrive. Was there a telegraph line all the way up there?  

 

As he walked down one of the long corridors he glanced out a window and noticed the alien engineer wandering through the gardens. Several Vorbarra armsmen were watching from a not terribly discrete distance.

 

Arkadi stopped, looked, thought. On an impulse he changed direction and went through a door and out into the gardens. The armsmen watched him, but they knew who he was and did not challenge him. He walked up to the alien. “Good day, sir.”

 

“Oh, uh, good day. Arkadi, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes. I just wanted to say how impressed I was with the stand you took at the meeting. Refusing to abandon your comrades despite all that pressure to do so. Well done, sir.”

 

“Uh… thanks. I just couldn’t turn my back on them. I… uh, I know you’re just as anxious to get the Count’s son back. I saw how closely you were guarding him.”

 

“Yes, it’s my duty to get him back again. But I confess that being cooped up here, hundreds of miles away is very frustrating. Especially when we know exactly where he is.” Arkadi hesitated. The idea that was forming in his head could land him in a huge amount of trouble, but he refused to stop now. “That vessel of yours, the _shuttle_ , I was there when it landed at Vorkosigan Surleau. It made a great deal of noise. Does it always do that?”

 

“Yeah, I’m afraid so. It’s a pretty old model. Why?”

 

“If you wanted to take someone by surprise you would have to land quite some distance away, I would think. Ten miles, maybe more.”

 

“I suppose so… now wait a minute! Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting?” The engineer’s eyes were very wide.

 

“Of course not,” said Arkadi as soothingly as he could. “But I was wondering: can your computer-thing call up those amazing map-pictures like you did before? I’d like to take a closer look at the mountains our friends are in.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sheela groaned in simultaneous relief and dread when it was announced that the large building perched above them was their destination. She simply had to get off this horse! But at the same time she wished she could turn the tired beast around and gallop away as fast as she could. She didn’t know what was going to happen, but she doubted that it would be pleasant.

 

But whatever was waiting for them was further delayed because the building wasn’t as close as it appeared. The road doubled back on itself several times as it wound its way upward. At one point it leapt across a rushing torrent on a narrow wooden bridge. A number of guards stood at both ends of the bridge, but made no challenge. As they got closer, Sheela could see that the building was made of carefully cut and set logs of impressive diameter. There were many windows and several balconies and all were decorated with elaborate carvings. Clearly no peasant’s hovel!

 

Finally they topped the last rise and she could see that the building was set on the edge of a wide flat space. A number of other buildings were further back, out of view from below, including a large barn. Beyond them the mountain continued upward.

 

A crowd of people were waiting for them. Most seemed to be servants, who bustled about helping with the horses and the baggage. Sheela practically fell off her horse, but there were several women to help her. A fair number of the people, however, were carrying weapons and looking very serious. The man who had been in charge these last two days dismounted and talked briefly with one of them and then came over to her and Tam. He doffed his hat and made a sweeping bow.

 

“Lady Sheela, Captain Hodgkins,” he said, “let me again apologize for all that you have been put through. On behalf of your host, Count Vorstakof, welcome to The Overlook. I am Lord Vorfallon. The Count will be expecting you for dinner where many things will be made clear to you. However, before that happens, you will be given the opportunity to bathe and refresh yourselves. If you’ll come this way please.” He gestured toward the house.

 

“Lady Sheela! Don’t be fooled by his fancy talk!” cried Lord Vorkosigan. “He and his count are traitors! They, and all who follow them, will soon feel the wrath of the Empire—and my father!”

 

Vorfallon raised an eyebrow and smiled. “Lord Vorkosigan, I’m afraid you will not be joining us for dinner. However, you will be well attended to, I assure you.” He made another gesture and several large men took hold of the boy’s arms and hustled him toward the house.

 

“What’s going to happen to him?” demanded Sheela. “He’s just a boy!”

 

“Have no fear, my lady. He will not be harmed. Now please, come this way.”

 

They were led in through the front doors of the house. The place was well named, for there was a spectacular view to the east. She and Tam were taken to rooms on the second floor that were adjacent to each other, but not connected. Lord Vorfallon made a few more pleasant remarks and then withdrew, leaving Sheela in the hands of a small gaggle of women who seemed determined to serve her. She nearly burst into tears when she saw the hot bath waiting for her. With the women’s help she undressed. The long bloomers had to be peeled away from her oozing blisters and this left her gasping and the servants making sympathetic noises or clucking in disapproval. She surreptitiously managed to pluck the microphone off her vest and the stunner out of her boot and conceal them. The women made off with all her clothing, including her underwear (which produced a number of whispered comments and giggles) but after wearing them for four days, two of them on horseback, they surely needed washing.

 

As did she. Lowering herself into the tub of blissfully hot water, she sighed in ecstasy. Some of the best pleasures could be accomplished with very little technology, she reflected. The women told her that dinner was still several hours off so she could soak to her heart’s content. When the water began to cool, one woman dipped out a bucket to make room for a new one of hot water. She felt the kinks slowly melt out of her muscles. Or most of them, anyway. Despite the pleasant surroundings, she could not forget the meeting and the dinner with the Count. From the information that she’d been getting through her earbug, this Count Vorstakof was in a very bad situation that was getting worse by the hour. And desperate men did desperate things.

 

At a gentle hint from one of the women, Sheela reluctantly left the bath and was dried. The women had some sort of ointment for her blisters that did help quite a bit and they bound linen bandages around her legs. New garments had been provided which fit tolerably well. She pinned her microphone back on and slipped the stunner back into her boots, which had been cleaned and shined.

 

It was getting dark outside and candles were being lit. She took a moment to step out on the balcony and watch the long shadows from the mountains to the west stretch out across the valleys in front of her. There was a gap in one of the ridges and through it she could see fifty or sixty kilometers she guessed. Beautiful, this really was a beautiful world. Beautiful but dangerous.

 

“Sheela! Sheela, are you there?” She flinched at Ian’s voice suddenly in her ear.

 

“Yes,” she whispered. “We’ve arrived at some place called The Overlook. A Count Vorstakof is…”

 

“We know, we know!” there was an urgency in Ian’s voice that brought her to full alert.

 

“What?”

 

Ian gave an exasperated sigh. “I have got to be an idiot, Sheela! I can’t believe I’m doing this!”

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I—we—are coming to get you! Tonight! I’m in the shuttle with Arkadi and six of his buddies—crowded in here!—and we’re on our way to your location. We’ve spotted a place I can land. It’s a good ways off so they won’t hear us. Arkadi and his men will come for you a few hours before dawn. Once you’re away from that compound I’ll fly in and pick you up!”

 

_My God…_

 

“Ian, that’s crazy! And… and if you’re already overloaded how are you going to take three more?”

 

“I won’t. Three of the men have volunteered to stay behind and try to get out on foot.”

 

“But…”

 

“Sheela, I know this is nuts, but Weitzl is ready to sell you and Tam out and this Emperor of theirs is perfectly willing to go along! I didn’t know what else to do!”

 

“But if the Emperor… wait, does he know what you’re up to?”

 

“No! Nor Count Vorkosigan! Look, I have to pilot this thing. I’ll contact you again later when Arkadi is getting close to you and we can make more plans. He’s got a com now, too, so we can coordinate.  Hang in there girl!” The connection cut and Sheela was breathing hard and clutching the railing. _This is insane…_

“My lady? Are you all right?” She jumped at the voice of the woman at her elbow.

 

“Yes, yes, fine.”

 

“It’s time for dinner, my lady. Lord Vorfallon is here to escort you down.”

 

Sheela took a deep breath and tried to calm her nerves. One thing at a time…

 

“All right. I’m ready.”

 

 

Chapter 7

 

 

Count Viktor Vorstakof stared out the window at the stars twinkling above the mountain tops. He’d always loved this place. It had been a place he could retreat to and let the peace and calm of the mountains drive out the everyday cares and frustrations that so often filled him.

  __

_I could lose this, too, along with everything else._ _I must have been out of my mind._ Surely no rebellion ever started with less planning or hung by a thinner thread. In all probability he was condemning his men, his son, and himself to death.

 

But what choice had there been?

 

For twenty years he’d been planning Dorca’s overthrow. He’d sworn on his father’s deathbed, where he lay dying with an Imperial musket ball in his guts, that he would someday bring the tyrant down. It had seemed an impossible promise at the time, with Dorca’s decisive victory at the Battle of Neshaminy and his armies overrunning the last of the rebellious counts’ strongholds. It had grown no less impossible with the passing years. He himself had been spared by Dorca’s amnesty and he was even permitted to inherit the countship. Dorca’s hold was still tenuous and he’d been forced to show certain mercies to forestall a brutal guerilla war in the mountains. So Lord Viktor Vorstakof had become Count Vorstakof and he’d knelt and sworn fealty to Dorca Vorbarra. The memory still burned. But there had been no choice. If he’d refused then he and his family, his infant son, would have been given over to the headsman and the Vorstakof line would have ended.

 

So he’d pretended to submit, but he never forgot his vow to his father. A vow which superseded any vow to Dorca. And then he’d gone to work. He’d carefully contacted men of like mind, patiently observed his enemy, made plans, always in the strictest secrecy. Many plans. Many, many plans. Year by year he’d made plans and discarded them. Over and over. Plans to assassinate Dorca. Plans to subvert his allies. Plans to rise in a new rebellion. Plans and plans and plans.

 

But after twenty years none of them had borne fruit. Dorca was too powerful, too clever, too ruthless. Vorstakof was fifty now. His son was twenty-two. The time to fulfill his promise was slipping by, slipping through his aging fingers. The chances were growing slimmer instead of more promising. His frustration had grown, too.

 

And then this had happened!

 

None of his plans, not his wildest imaginings, had ever included the arrival of aliens from the stars!

 

At first he’d refused to believe, but that had only lasted a few moments. Once he’d accepted the truth the whole situation became crystal clear to him: this was his last chance.

 

In his grandfather’s time men fought with flintlock muskets and bronze cannons. The muskets were individually made by craftsmen. Any village with a good blacksmith had the means to produce them. Any town of modest size with a foundry could cast a cannon. The would-be emperors of the Vorbarra clan could make more muskets and more cannons than most counts, but not more than all the counts together. They’d tried to subjugate the counts, but they’d failed time and time again.

 

But then had come the percussion muskets and the rifles and the iron cannons with exploding shells, and the railways and the telegraphs… Those couldn’t be made by a village blacksmith. Even the towns found it difficult. But in Vorbarr Sultana, that huge, stinking city, there those things could be made and made in quantity. Whole factories turned them out by the hundreds and the thousands. No other town on Barrayar could match the output of the great Imperial City. And the city made other things, too, things that brought trade and wealth to the Vorbarras. Wealth enough to build an army that no count, no group of counts, could match. Oh, perhaps if all the counts had banded together, but the Vorbarras’ wealth could buy counts just as it could buy artillery. One by one they fell under his sway and when the time was right he crushed all opposition. Now the Imperial Army held the world in a grip of steel. For all his scheming, Vorstakof had found no answer, no way to overthrow the emperor.

 

The coming of the aliens could change everything—or nothing.

 

It was this miserable _technology_ which had given the empire its unbeatable edge.  And now Dorca was being handed an even more enormous edge, technology hundreds of years more advanced, devices that couldn’t be built anywhere on Barrayar. Vorstakof had no idea what sort of weapons these aliens possessed, but they must be devastating, indeed. In the hands of Dorca, they would give him an insurmountable edge. Even if somehow Vorstakof convinced every count to join him and half the Imperial Army to desert, it would all be for naught if Dorca had a loyal core of troops armed with the aliens’ weapons. Put those weapons in Dorca’s hands and his tyranny would be unbreakable.

 

But if the weapons were in his hands…

 

It was that image, along with the sure knowledge that if he failed to act now it would mean failure for all time, which had driven him to move. Driven him to gamble everything. It was the only possible action, but it was still insane. _Maybe I should have waited. Just let it go… No, damn it!_ His hands clutched the window sill like a pair of claws.

 

“Father?” The voice at his side made him flinch. He forced his hands to relax and he turned to look at his son. “They’re here, Father.” Alexei stood there with an expression of excited anticipation on his face. The boy—no, he was a man now—thought this was all some grand adventure. How much he looked like his late mother! A stab of fear twisted Vorstakof’s belly. Was he throwing his boy into the flames along with everything else? He took a deep breath and tried to find the calm this place usually granted him.

 

“Good,” he said, slapping his son’s shoulder. “Let’s go and meet our guests.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Arkadi clutched the arms of the seats on either side of him and tried to ignore the fact that he was flying. _Flying! I must have been out of my mind!_ Crouched where he was between the rows of seats, he could look out through the forward window of the alien vehicle. All he could see were clouds rushing past, faintly illuminated by pale moonlight, rushing faster than he’d ever imagined possible.

 

“How the hell did I ever let you talk me into this?” shouted Andre Goldcamp from the seat next to him. “This is madness!”

 

“Well, if you want to get off, I’ll ask Cummings to open the door and you can jump!”

 

“No thanks! How much longer?”

 

“Not long!” _I hope!_

He knew that it was less than thirty minutes since they had left Vorbarr Sultana, but it felt like hours. The plan, when it had first popped into his head, was clearly insane and he’d never expected to get this far. He was sure he’d be stopped, probably reprimanded by the Count, possibly dismissed, and certainly sent to his room without supper. But he hadn’t been stopped. Somehow he’d managed to convince Andre to throw in with him and the two of them had rustled up five of the ‘replacement’ armsmen that the Count had acquired and told them they had a mission—and nothing more. Then it had just been a matter of marching out to the shuttle with Ian Cummings in the center of the group as if they were escorting him. The palace guards hadn’t said a word until they were aboard with the doors shut. They’d probably said a few things then, but it was impossible to hear with the building roar of the shuttle’s engine. And then they were off. Simple as that. Amazing what you could accomplish by betraying a trust that you’d spent a lifetime building.

 

 He had planned this primarily as a last sop to his damaged honor. One last try to get the boy back himself before admitting that he had failed and it was all up to others to do the job he had botched. But now that the first part of the plan had worked, somehow, somehow he had to make all the rest of it work, too.

 

He didn’t think that would go quite so smoothly.

 

“Okay, I’m circling the landing area.” Cummings voice sounding inside his ear made him flinch. The alien had given him one of the tiny devices and stuck it in his ear. A _microphone_ was clipped to his shirt and the _computer_ that made it all work, packed deep in a pocket. “All right, I see a spot where I can put you down. Hang on!” Arkadi gripped the seats tighter.

 

“Just about there!” he shouted. “Get ready to get out!”

 

“Thanks God!” He wasn’t sure who had shouted that. It could have been anyone—or everyone. The vehicle tilted and then turned and suddenly dropped in a fashion that made him gasp, and a moment later lurched to a halt, leaning a bit to one side. The doors to the outside hissed open and Arkadi was on his feet.

 

“Go! Let’s go!” He led the way out and his boots crunched on gravel and small stones as he jumped down. It was dark now and the ground uneven and he nearly fell, but he kept his feet and helped the others as they made their jumps. All of them had bulky packs, rifles and ammunition, which made them even more awkward. But all of them made it and they slid, stumbled and jumped their way down the rock slide that they’d picked for a landing spot. When they were about a hundred yards away, Arkadi stopped and gently squeezed the microphone. “All right, Ian, we’re clear!”

 

“Right-O!” came the reply. “I’ll be tracking you and waiting for your signal. Good luck!” The shuttle’s engines took on a higher pitch and the amazing machine lifted away into the night. It was too risky to leave the shuttle here with no guard, but it certainly couldn’t go back to the palace, so they’d found an inaccessible mountain top about twenty miles to the west where it could land again and wait.

 

The silence left behind when the machine vanished seemed unnatural. The crunch of the stones under his boots were strangely loud, his breath, his pounding heart… “Okay, let’s get moving,” he said. “We’ve got a long way to go and not much time to get there.” He turned and led the way to the bottom of the slide. They entered a woods and it seemed as dark as the inside of a sack. Only a few rays from the lesser moon made it through to the forest floor. But they reached the bottom of the slope and found the stream that the alien’s picture-map said would be here. They stumbled along its banks for a mile or so and then it met a larger watercourse. Another mile and they came to a bridge and the road that would lead them to where Lord Vorkosigan and the aliens were being held.

 

Arkadi was acutely aware that there was only him and six other men to penetrate what was sure to be a closely held stronghold of the enemy. He was counting heavily on surprise. The enemy did not know he knew they were there and hopefully they wouldn’t believe that there was any threat of an attack this soon. Vorstakof (assuming he was actually here) and his men could have only arrived, at most, the day before and the men escorting his captives even more recently. They’d all be tired, all counting on at least one night of rest before any danger might appear. So they had to bring the danger to them as quickly as possible. Arkadi looked at the position of the stars. It was still three hours before midnight. But they were ten miles from their destination, much of it uphill.

 

“Come on, keep moving!”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“And so you see, Lady Sheela, Captain Hodgkins, I felt I had no choice but to bring you here. If you had been prevented from hearing anything but the Emperor’s lies you would have had no idea what a terrible tyrant you’d be unwittingly helping. Again I apologize for bringing you here in the manner I did, but if you’d been taken to Vorbarr Sultana, you would have been outside my reach and you might never have learned the truth.”

 

Count Vorstakof paused and took a sip from his wine. Sheela slowly let her breath out. Their ‘host’ had barely stopped talking all through dinner. There was no doubt that the man had a powerful charisma and he could make a compelling argument, a natural leader. In spite of herself Sheela half-believed the accusations Vorstakof had leveled against Emperor Dorca. And why shouldn’t she? The only things she knew about this world and its people were what she’d been told by Count Vorkosigan’s people. And they were loyal supporters of the Emperor, so they certainly weren’t going to say anything bad about him! What if he really was the bloody-handed despot Vostakof claimed him to be? Of course, by her own standards, even the most enlightened ruler these Barrayarans could imagine would seem a terrible tyrant. _What if Dorca really is a monster? Does it make any difference? Would this Vorstakof be any better if he were in charge?_

 

And for all his smooth words, the fact remained that Emperor Dorca had done no harm to her or her friends, while Vorstakof had killed or injured a bunch of people and then dragged her here against her will. Not a very good first impression, that was for sure!

 

But that was all beside the point. The only thing that mattered was that a rescue party was on the way. She could scarcely believe that Ian had agreed to it, but with Arkadi Kurzov in charge she could see how it could happen. The man was not someone who took ‘no’ for an answer. But only one shuttle full of rescuers… there had to be at least a hundred armed men here at The Overlook. Their only hope was surprise. Somehow she had to put this Vorstakof at ease, play him along, do nothing to arouse his suspicions.

 

“Well,” said Vorstakof after another moment. “I’ve bent your ears long enough with political bombast that probably doesn’t mean a lot to visitors like you. So, let’s get down to business, shall we?” Vorstakof had a slight smile on his face and the tone of his voice reminded her a bit of Count Vorkosigan on the train. “It is clear that you people have technology far in advance of what we have here on Barrayar. If that wasn’t true, then you wouldn’t be here, eh? I am assuming that you must possess weapons that are just as advanced as your spaceships. Correct?” His expression became very intent and he wasn’t smiling anymore. Sheela realized that his entire plot, probably his life, hung on getting the weapons.

 

She glanced at Tam, who was sweating. “Well, yes, that’s true,” she said. “We’ve seen some examples of your weapons—in action—and yes, we do have things that are far more powerful.”

 

Vorstakof relaxed slightly. “Good. Good, I couldn’t see how it could be otherwise. So I’ll be plain: I want to buy weapons from you. I’m realistic enough to realize that this is very much a seller’s market and that you are in a position to demand a high price. So be it. Name your price and let me have the weapons. What do you say?”

 

Tam opened his mouth, but Sheela cut him off. “Count Vorstakof, would you permit us to discuss your very kind offer in private for a few minutes?”

 

The Count frowned, but he couldn’t very well deny such a reasonable request without also denying his insistence that they were guests and not prisoners. After a moment he nodded. “Certainly. I think everyone is about done eating, so if you and Captain Hodgkins would like to use my study to confer, that would be fine. Please come this way.” He rose from his chair and escorted Tam and her down a hallway and opened a heavy wooden door. On the other side was a sumptuous room with rich paneling and many shelves holding real paper books. “This is actually a better place to hold our talks than the dining room,” he said. “I’ll leave you here until you are ready to resume. There will be a man outside if you need anything.” He started to bow himself out, but Sheela stopped him.

 

“Excuse me, my lord, I was wondering about Lord Vorkosigan. He’s just a boy and I was growing quite fond of him during our journey. I’d really hate to see him come to any harm. Would it be possible for me to see him?”

 

Vorstakof’s eyebrows drew together. “Perhaps later, my lady. But I assure you he’s fine. He has his own room up on the third floor. Now, I shall see you again shortly.” He shut the door behind him.

 

“What the hell are…?” began Tam, but Sheela instantly shushed him.

 

“Quiet!” She came over to him and whispered. “They might not have electronic bugs but there could still be people watching us!”

 

“All right,” he whispered back. “But what the hell are we going to _do_? This guy wants weapons and he’s gonna totally flip out if we tell him we can’t deliver any!”

 

“Then we don’t tell him!”

 

“What? Are you crazy?”

 

“Probably. But Tam, there’s a rescue party on its way! I heard from Ian while I was dressing! He’s flying them to a spot near here in the shuttle!”

 

“Oh my God, he’s gonna get us all killed!” groaned Tam. “Why the hell did he…?”

 

“Wasn’t his idea. That Arkadi Kurzov is leading it and you saw what he was like.”

 

“But… but the shuttle! You mean this ‘rescue’ party only has five men in it?” Tam’s eyes were getting very wide.

 

“Seven, actually. But let me contact Ian and see where they are.” She touched her microphone. “Ian? Ian? Where are you?”

 

“Sheela! Sitting on a mountaintop waiting for Arkadi’s signal! How are you guys?”

 

“We’ve got a tiger by the tail! Where’s Arkadi?”

 

“Hold on a second, I’m tracking his communicator… Okay, he’s about six klicks northeast of you, but it will be a lot farther by the trails he has to follow. He was only going to follow the main road part of the way and then take some little trails we spotted so he can come in from the rear. He figured it would take another five or six hours to get into position…”

 

“Not good enough!” hissed Sheela. “Vorstakof wants an answer from us about the weapons tonight. We’ll stall him as long as we can, but I don’t know how long that’s gonna be. Tell Arkadi to hurry!”

 

“Okay, will do.”

 

Sheela relayed the news to Tam, who looked close to panic. Sheela wasn’t far behind him. “We’re dead… we’re dead,” he moaned.

 

“If you don’t keep your head, we will be dead!” she snapped. “Now pull yourself together! This guy needs what he thinks we can give him. Without the weapons _he’s_ gonna be dead! So as long as he thinks we can help him he won’t try anything rough. I know you can play a pretty good game of poker, Tam, so bluff this guy! We just have to stall him the rest of tonight.”

 

Tam pressed his hands to his head but before he could make any response there was a knock on the door and an instant later it swung open. Count Vorstakoff was there with four other men. One was just a servant who deposited a tray with a carafe of wine and glasses and quickly left again. Tam sat down next to the tray and helped himself with shaking hands. Sheela felt like she could use a stiff drink herself. Another of the men was some sort of advisor to the Count, they’d been introduced at dinner, but she couldn’t remember his name. The other two were the Count’s armsmen. One came into the room while the other remained in the hallway and shut the door. “Are you ready to resume?” asked Vorstakof.

 

“Uh, sure,” said Sheela. She wondered where Lord Vorfallon was, he had seemed to be the Count’s number two man.

 

“Good. Why don’t we all sit down?” They all found chairs, except for the armsman who stood by the door. “Now, we were talking about your selling weapons to me.” He stared at them and Sheela suppressed a shiver.

 

“Of… of course,’ said Sheela. “We’d be happy to sell weapons to you, my lord…” she hesitated and then a flash inspiration hit her. “In fact, if you like, we can show some of them to you.”

 

“What? How?” demanded the Count. “You didn’t have any with you…”

 

“Well, I should have said we can show you pictures of them and what they can do. Lord Vorfallon… uh, borrowed two small, flat devices of ours when he, uh, invited us to come here.”

 

“Yes, he gave them to me,” said Vorstakof. “He said you said they were recording devices.”

 

“Uh, yes. They can do a bit more than that, my lord, but it was too complicated to explain in the heat of the moment. They can also display pictures of things. If you could have them brought here, we could show you.”

 

“Very well.” He sent his advisor—Vorjervis, that was his name—out to fetch the computer pads. Sheela swallowed nervously, but she remembered what a sensation the displays had been with the Barrayarans on the train. With any luck she could keep Vorstakof enthralled for hours! Vorjervis returned in just a few moments bearing the two pads. Sheela took hers and set it on the desk and slowly—she must go slowly!—called up the holographic projector. This brought cries of wonder from the Barrayarans and she spent ten minutes just fiddling with the size, shape, and angle of the display.

 

“Okay, now what should I show you first?” She smiled at the Count and tried not to tremble.

 

_Hurry, Arkadi! Wherever you are, hurry!_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

Arkadi almost flung himself on the ground when the voice started talking in his ear. Damn! He’d been so concentrated on watching for any movement, listening for any sound, he’d forgotten about that bloody thing!

 

“Arkadi, can you hear me?” He motioned for his men to halt.

 

“Yes,” he whispered. “What is it?”

 

“Just talked to Sheela. That Vorstakof guy is foaming at the mouth. She doesn’t think they can stall him much longer. You’re gonna have to get there sooner!”

 

“Sooner? That’s impossible! We’re just about to turn off the road onto that trail! We’ll be lucky to be in position before dawn!”

 

“They can’t wait that long!”

 

“Damn it, we can’t attack while they’re all awake! They’re only seven of us!”

 

“Well this whole crazy scheme was your idea, man! And they’re running out of time!”

 

Arkadi clenched his fist. The only way they could get there faster was to stay on the road. They could probably be there in two hours that way, but it was insanely dangerous. They would be sure to be spotted and challenged and that would be the end of it. Damn!

 

“Arkadi?”

 

“All right! All right! We’ll do what we can!”

 

The alien clicked off and Arkadi looked at the six men with him. He was leading them to their deaths this way. _But we’ve all sworn to die for the Count. There might not ever be a better time._

 

“Come on, keep moving.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“And now this one is a… uh, Mark XIX heavy plasma arc,” said Sheela. She touched a control and a new image appeared, a man holding a large gun which proceeded to blast some targets to little tiny bits. Her audience _oohed_ and _ahhed_ appreciatively. She’d been doing this for well over an hour and they didn’t seem the least bit bored.

 

“Good, huh?” said Tam, taking a drink from his glass. He’d been drinking a lot…

 

“Oh ho, milord!” chortled Vorjervis. “Just imagine what something like that would do to Dorca’s army!”

 

“I am, believe me I am,” said Vorstakof with a hungry look in his eye. But now he turned that eye on her and Tam. “So when? When can you deliver these things to me?”

 

“Uh, well, my lord,” said Sheela, “we’ve shown you what we have to offer. Now, I’m afraid we have to come to the other half of the bargain: what do you have to offer us in payment?”

 

“What do you want in payment? I can give you gold, silver, gemstones…”

 

“Ah well, you see, my lord, such things do have value, but are not generally used as money out in the galaxy…” she launched into an explanation of galactic economics similar to what they’d told Count Vorkosigan on the train. She kept looking at Tam for help, but he didn’t say much beyond a few grunts. What was the matter with the man?

 

“Yes, yes, this is all very interesting, Lady Sheela,” interrupted the Count after a while. The look on his face told her he was running out of patience. “But it seems to me that the bottom line is that we do have things of value, things that could pay for these weapons. We can work out the details later, but I need the weapons as soon as possible. When can you deliver them?”

 

_Oh Dear._ She’d known this question was coming and she’d wracked her brain for what to say. She could just lie and tell him what he wanted to hear, but the lie would unravel very, very quickly. How quickly? Could it buy her enough time? “Uh… well, we’ll have to get in touch with our ship and see what…” But she’d hesitated too long and Vorstakof cut her off.

 

“Captain Hodgkins! You’ve let this woman talk for you all evening! But you are in command, are you not? Why do you not speak for yourself?”

 

“’Cause Sheela talks so nice, dontcha think?” answered Tam with a horrible grin on his face.   
“’S’what she’s good at, y’know? I bet she could be good at some other things, too, but she never tries.”

 

  _Omigod! How much has he had to drink?_ Sheela tried to recapture Vorstakof’s attention, but to no avail.

 

“But now I’m asking _you_ ,” said Vorstakof in an icy voice. “When… can… I… get… those… weapons?”

 

“Oh… a month maybe,” said Tam, waving a hand in the air. “Six weeks, top.”

 

_Oh shit…_

 

The color drained out of Vorstakof’s face. “A month!” he exploded. “I need them now! Now!”

 

“What? D’you think I fly around with a hundred plasma arcs on my ship?” asked Tam. “Why th’hell would I do that? We gotta go back to Komarr to get the stuff for ya. An’ with five barely-charted wormhole jumps to make it’ll take at least two weeks to get there, another week to get the weapons—can’t just buy those at a department store, y’know! And then another two weeks to get back. Yeah, a month or so.”

 

“I don’t have a month!” snarled the Count. “Dorca will have overrun my whole district by then!”

 

“Well I guess you’re up shit creek, then, aren’t ya?”

 

“Tam!” hissed Sheela.

 

Vorstakof was on his feet and he seemed very tall. “You’re lying! You’re lying, you bastard!” He walked over to where Tam was slouched in his chair, his fists quivering in fury. Tam seemed to suddenly realize what he’d been saying. His mouth dropped open and he tried to back away from Vorstakof, scrunching down in his chair.

 

“I… It’s the truth! I’m sorry, but there’s nothing we can do! We didn’t bring any weapons with us! Why would we? We didn’t expect to find anyone here!”

 

Vorstakof grabbed Tam by his tunic and hauled him up face to face. “You will get me those weapons! You’ll get them for me or you will die!”

 

“But there’s no way! I can’t! It… it’s not my fault you started your stupid rebellion without asking us first!” Tam tried to pull loose of Vorstakof’s grip. “If… if you hurt me you’ll never get them! I’m the only one who can pilot our ship!”

 

The Count let go of Tam, who collapsed back in his chair. Vorstakof glared at him and then slowly turned toward Sheela. “Captain Hodgkins,” he said in a voice cold as ice. “I am getting the impression that you don’t really believe me when I tell you I am in deadly earnest. Perhaps I shall demonstrate just how serious I am—on your frill here!”

 

“But… but… but…” gobbled Tam. Sheela tensed.

 

Vorstakof took a step in her direction.

 

Sheela drew the stunner out of her boot and shot him.

 

Vorstakof had an expression of incredulous shock frozen on his face as he hit the floor. The other two men in the room looked just as gobsmacked as Sheela rose and turned the stunner on the armsman by the door. He was clearly well-trained, he had a pistol halfway drawn before the stunner beam hit him, but he wasn’t quite quick enough. The third one, Vorjervis, managed to begin a shout before Sheela shot him, too.

 

She stood there, unsure what to do next, when the door opened. The other armsman. “Milord, I heard…” he began. Then his eyes bugged out and he was clawing for his pistol when Sheela managed to stun him. His forward momentum carried him all the way into the room where he fell, face first, on the floor.

 

Sheela stood frozen one instant longer and then dashed to the door. She peered out, but there was no one in sight in either direction. She grabbed the second armsman by his belt, hauled him clear of the door and then shut it. She was gasping for breath and her heart was pounding. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit!_

 

“What the hell are you doing?” moaned Tam. “Now he’s _really_ gonna be pissed!”

 

“Well then we better not be around when he wakes up! Right?” She glared at him.

 

“Oh… yeah… right. Let’s… let’s get out of here.” He staggered to his feet.

 

“Good thinking!” she sneered. “Vorstakof said that Lord Vorkosigan was on the third floor…”

 

“What?” cried Tam, much too loudly. “You can’t be serious! We gotta get out of here!”

 

“We can’t leave the boy here! There’s no telling what they’d do to him.”

 

“You’re insane!”

 

“Yeah, and I’ve also got the stunner and the communicator! So either follow me, or find your way back to the ship on your own!” she said, scooping up the two computer pads and stuffing them in the pockets of her vest. She went to the door and opened it a crack and looked out. The corridor was still deserted. She’d expected to see a swarm of guards. She opened the door the rest of the way and stepped out. The way they had come, back toward the main part of the house, was still brightly lit and she thought she could hear a murmur of voices in that direction. But the other way… “Maybe there’s a back stair,” she whispered.

 

There was.

 

She dragged Tam out of the room and shut the door and headed for the stairs. They made it up to the second floor with no problem, but as they made the turn to start up to the third they met someone coming down. Sheela fired the stunner without thinking but then was horrified to see that it was just a maid. A maid carrying a tray filled with glasses and bottles…

 

Sheela managed to grab the woman’s arm with her free hand so she didn’t tumble down the steps and somehow, somehow Tam caught the tray in mid-flight without breaking a glass. She could almost forgive him everything else for that.

 

They set down the maid and the tray and then continued up the steps. Tam was whining that they were all going to die. But an incredible recklessness was filling Sheela, an adrenalin high unlike anything she’d ever felt. They reached the third floor.

 

“Come on, let’s find him and get out.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Sooner or later you are going to tell me everything I want to know, boy. Why not save yourself the pain and cooperate?”

 

Piotr Vorkosigan stared at Lord Vorfallon and swore to himself he wouldn’t let the man know just how afraid he was. “W-why should I cooperate with a dead man? My father and the Emperor’s troops will be here soon and then you and your master will both hang.”

 

“They won’t be here any time soon. Certainly not soon enough to help you if you continue to defy me.” Vorfallon stepped next to Piotr and took his arm in a grip like a vise.

 

“The… the aliens won’t like it if you hurt me!” he gasped. “I’m their friend!”

 

“Oh, there are of plenty of things I can do that won’t leave any marks,” said Vorfallon in a terrifyingly soft tone of voice. “A dislocated shoulder, for instance. Very painful indeed.” He twisted Piotr’s arm behind his back and began to apply pressure. The pain was mild at first, but as the pressure increased… he gasped.

 

“See what I mean? Now, you will tell me everything that happened between the time the aliens landed at Vorkosigan Surleau and when we took the train.”

 

“No!” cried Piotr, trying to pull free. But Vorfallon twisted harder and a cry of pain escaped his lips in spite of all he could do. He was ashamed when tears ran down his cheeks. But then the pain eased off a bit.

 

“Let’s start with something simple, eh? What color was their ship?”

 

“S-silver!” he gasped. There was no harm in telling that, was there?

 

“Good! A good start. What did the ship look like?”

 

“Like a… like a giant lance point…”

 

“How big was it?”

 

“I don’t know… as long as a railway car maybe. Wider…

 

“Only that big? Are you sure?” Vorfallon was frowning. “How many people were on board?”

 

“I don’t know! Four came out, but there could have more I didn’t see.” A lie, he’d seen inside the ship and there were only the four.

 

“That seems very small for a vessel capable of flying between the stars,” said Vorfallon. “I think you are lying to me, boy.”

 

Piotr gasped as the pressure increased again. But he suddenly realized that Vorfallon didn’t even know that the vessel at Vorkosigan Surleau was just a shuttle for a larger ship still in space. Was that critical? Should he tell him…?

 

“Are you lying to me, boy?” The pain grew worse and worse…

 

But suddenly there was a loud thump outside the door to the room. Vorfallon turned and called out angrily: “I told you we were not to be disturbed!”

 

Then the door opened and to Piotr’s complete astonishment there was Lady Sheela! She had something in her hand… “Let him go!” she said in a voice like iron.

 

Quick as a snake, Vorfallon pulled Piotr in front of him, shielding himself with his body. “I don’t know what you think you are doing here, milady,” said Vorfallon. “But you will go back downstairs to the Count at once.”

 

“I don’t think so, you bastard,” snapped the alien woman. “Sorry, Piotr, I hope this doesn’t hurt much.” The thing in her hand buzzed softly and Vorfallon suddenly stiffened. A strange tingling hit the left side of Piotr’s whole body, like striking your funny bone except all over. Strange sparks floated in front of his eyes and then suddenly he was on the floor.

 

He tried to stand up, but his left leg and arm didn’t want to work. A strong hand gripped him and pulled him up. “It’s all right, Piotr, you’re all right. It’s just a graze by the stunner beam. Come on, we’re leaving.”

 

His right leg still worked and he hopped and was half-carried toward the door. _Stunner/ Wait, then Vorfallon is still…_ “Cut… k…” he tried to talk, but half his mouth seemed paralyzed, too. He twisted back toward where Vorfallon was crumpled on the floor. _Don’t just leave him! Kill him!_

 

But then they were out of the room and into the hallway where the other alien and an unconscious armsman were waiting. Captain Hodgkins took hold of him and they went down the hall and then down a set of steps. “Tam, watch out for the…!” said Lady Sheela urgently, but then there was a horribly loud crash and bottles and glasses were tumbling everywhere.

 

“Shit!”

 

“Tam, you idiot!”

 

_“Sorry!”_

 

But they kept going and there didn’t seem to be any immediate alarm sounded. They reached the bottom of the steps and there was a door there, a door to the outside, Piotr realized. Lady Sheela eased it open and then her stunner buzzed again and there was a soft thud. “Come on,” she whispered.

 

The feeling was starting to come back to Piotr’s arm and leg and he hobbled along as they moved down the side of the building. When he realized they were heading for the road leading away he managed to make his mouth say: “St… stables. H-horses.”

 

The two aliens froze. “Not again,” moaned Captain Hodgkins.

 

“He’s right,” hissed Lady Sheela. “Ian can’t land the shuttle here, we’d be shot to pieces. We need to get some horses and get down to where Arkadi is waiting!”

 

A shock went through Piotr, not unlike the stunner bolt. “A…kadi!” he gasped.

 

“Yes, Arkadi is on his way,” said Lady Sheela. “He’s coming for us and we have to go meet him.” A warm glow filled him. Arkadi was coming! And coming here! All his fear melted away. Nothing would stop Arkadi! Nothing!

 

“Let’s get those horses,” said Lady Sheela.

 

They started across the compound. There was no cover so they tried to move as casually as possible. Fortunately, both moons had set and it was really very dark. But a light shown from one of the windows in the stable. They peered in and saw two men sitting at a table, playing cards and drinking from tall mugs. Piotr could feel Sheela trembling, but she went through the door and said: “Good evening gentlemen.” And then shot both of them.  
  


There were two horses, saddled and ready, for couriers, no doubt. The stun was almost completely worn off now and Piotr told the two aliens to mount the horses while he pulled another out of a stall. “I can ride bare-back. Captain Hodgkins, I’ll lead you. Lady Sheela, I know you can ride well enough yourself.” The woman looked startled and then absurdly pleased and she nodded.

 

They walked the horses out of the stables and toward the road. Lady Sheela led the way with her weapon ready. Piotr towed Captain Hodgkins, who was moaning something about everyone getting killed. He had smelled the wine on the man’s breath. Was he drunk?

 

As they neared the point where the road started down the mountain he thought he could see some darker, man-sized shapes. Fortunately the place hadn’t been built as a fortress so there was no gate, but there were sentries. Piotr fought the enormous urge to break into a gallop immediately. Slowly, slowly, pretend you belong there and they’ll think so, too…

 

“Hey, who’s that?” came a voice. But it was a normal question, not an urgent challenge. Ten seconds or more went by and they were very close now.

 

“Who’s there? Stop!” The voice was much more urgent this time.

 

“Go!” cried Piotr and he jammed his heels into the horse’s flanks. He heard the buzz of lady Sheela’s stunner and one of the shapes fell. Then they were past and galloping down the road. There were shouts from behind them and then after several more tense seconds a shot. It was loud, but none of them were hit. Down the road and then to the first switchback. Their mounts’ hooves were pounding and the wind was whipping in his hair and Piotr found himself grinning. _Free!_

 

More shots now and from up above a horn rang out. _Free but not safe._

 

“Yes!” cried Lady Sheela suddenly. “We’ve gotten away! Tell Arkadi… what? Okay, patch him through!” She was talking on her communicator! The fools hadn’t even taken it away from her! “Arkadi! Where are you? What? We’re on horseback coming down from the lodge! What? Yes! All three of us! Piotr’s with us!” She stopped talking as they reached the second switchback. She slowed slightly and Piotr, still towing Captain Hodgkins, caught up. She turned her head toward him. “Arkadi’s just below that bridge we crossed! He’s going to meet us there! But he says there are guards…”

 

Just then a fusillade of gunfire echoed up from below. A lot of shots fired very rapidly.

 

“…and he’s going to try and clear them out for us.”

 

“No shit,” gasped Captain Hodgkins. The man was clinging to his horse for dear life.

 

Up ahead was the last switchback before the bridge. The firing was louder and he could see the flashes of the guns. “The guards…,” cried Piotr. “the guards don’t know we escaped. They’ll think we’re reinforcements! Don’t stop! Just go right on across!”

 

They thundered around the last bend and there was the bridge! Lady Sheela was pulling ahead again, but Piotr had to keep towing the other alien. The fire slackened as the noise of their hooves reached the men ahead. Arkadi was no doubt cautioning his men not to fire and the guards, hopefully assuming the horsemen were on their side, were restraining themselves as well. They reached the bridge and the hooves were incredibly loud on the wooden planks. There was the other side! They were going to make it!

 

But then there was a shout from behind them and then more shots. Something whizzed past Piotr’s ear and there was a scream from just ahead. A horse’s scream. And then Lady Sheela was going down. Her horse had been hit and she flew off it to land on the bridge. Piotr reined in his horse, but then looked in horror as the woman slid between two of the widely-spaced posts holding up the bridge railing. Her lower half went over the side and she scrabbled desperately at the planks.

 

Piotr brought his horse to a halt. Captain Hodgkin’s horse went on past and he leaned over to swat it on the behind. “Go on!” he screamed as he leapt off his own mount. He ran toward Lady Sheela and flung himself forward to grab her arms as she slid backwards. He could hear the roar of the rapids from below and from above came the growing shriek of the aliens’ shuttle. “Gotcha!” he cried. Her face was only a foot away from his and even in the dark he could see the whites of her eyes grown wide.

 

But then her face disappeared and he was dragged forward right to the edge of the bridge. _She’s twice my size…_ “Let… let me go!” she gasped.

 

“No! Arkadi will come and…!”

 

But Arkadi couldn’t get there that fast, no one could. The woman’s weight dragged him forward and down. He thrashed his feet around to find some sort of hold, but there was nothing. He slid over the edge and was suddenly falling. He plunged into the icy water. Something hit his head hard and he knew no more.

 

 


	2. Section 2

Chapter 8

 

 

Arkadi reached the center of the bridge in time to see a pair of familiar legs disappear over the side of the bridge.

 

“Piotr!” He flung himself forward, lunged, grabbed, but he was too late. His hands closed on empty air. He scrambled up to the edge and looked down, but there was nothing to see but blackness. “Piotr!” he shouted again. But the only answer was the roar of the rushing water below. Wait! What was…?

 

“Help!”

 

A faint cry reached his ears, but it wasn’t Piotr. It was a woman’s voice, Lady Sheela. It came again, but more faintly. The fast moving waters were carrying her away. Did she have the boy? He started stripping off his gear so he could go in after them but then a hand gripped his arm. It was Goldcamp.

 

“Where d’you think you’re going?” demanded his fellow armsman.

 

“The boy is in the water! Let me go!”

 

Goldcamp stared over the bridge and shook his head. “All you’ll accomplish is cracking your skull open again! You’ll never find him in this dark.”

 

“But I’ve got to…!”

 

“You’ve got to see to your command!” snapped Goldcamp. “The shuttle is landing and we’ve got the one alien and half the men are hurt! You can’t go off and leave them!”

 

“But…”

 

A ragged volley of shots interrupted him and several bullets chewed splinters out of the bridge nearby. Goldcamp tugged him away from the edge. “Come on! Or we’ll both be killed!”

 

Arkadi looked back at the water, but he knew Goldcamp was right: Flinging himself after the boy wouldn’t do any good. Piotr could be half a mile away by now. He needed to get downstream! He lurched to his feet and they both fled back to the men, crouching low. A hundred yards away, around a bend in the road, the shuttle was landing.

 

“Get aboard!” he shouted. “Fall back! Take the fallen! I’ll cover you!” He scooped up two of the rifles lying on the ground and quickly emptied them toward the far side of the bridge. He heard a faint cry and the enemy’s fire slackened a bit. He looked over his shoulder and saw that Goldcamp was carrying one of the wounded men away. Everyone else was gone. He drew his revolver and fired off all six rounds and then turned and ran.

 

He caught up as Goldcamp was loading his burden into the shuttle. “Dars and Jonathan are dead,” he said, “but I guess we’ve got room for them now. Especially seein’ as how you’re not coming, right?” His friend stared at him.

 

“No I’m not. Is Captain Hodgkins aboard?”

 

“Yeah, his horse is over there. You’ll probably need that.”

 

“Thanks, Andre. Get them back to the palace, will you?”

 

“Oh, yeah, that’s right! Leave _me_ to face the wrath of the Emperor and the Count! Think I’d rather stay.”

 

“You’re hurt, yourself, man,” he said pointing to Goldcamp’s blood-soaked sleeve. “Get yourself fixed up.”

 

“All right then. But you take care of yourself, too.”

 

“I will. Now get out of here. Those bastards will be coming soon.”

 

“Right.” Goldcamp pulled himself up into the shuttle and Arkadi went for the horse. The beast was skittish around the strange alien machine and he almost lost control of it when the shuttle took to the air. Hopefully the noise would keep back Vorstakof’s men for a while, too.

 

As the shuttle dwindled in the night, Arkadi guided the horse off the road and tried to find a path through the trees that led back to the river. He touched his microphone. “Ian, everything all right there?”

 

“Looks good, Arkadi. We’ll be back at the palace in thirty minutes.”

 

“Do you have a location on Lady Sheela?”

 

“Uh… south of your position, maybe a kilometer or so. Huh, it’s not moving now, so maybe you can catch up with her.”

 

“Good. Once you’ve unloaded your passengers, do you think you could come back? If I find them, we’ll probably need a fast ride out of here.”

 

“It might not be so easy leaving the palace a second time.”

 

“Yeah, but if I’ve actually got the boy they might be easier to convince.”

 

“Maybe. But Arkadi?  I’m starting to run low on fuel. I’m going to have to make a side trip back to the ship to fill up. What? Hold on.” Cummings broke off for a moment. “Arkadi? Tam is insisting I take _him_ back to the ship right now. Mr. Goldcamp is objecting. But I really do need to refuel. If I go back to the palace I’ll have just enough to get back to the ship on the next flight, but nowhere else.”

 

Arkadi pondered for a moment. Did he trust Cummings to come back? _Yes I do._ The man had honor. “Go get your fuel, Ian. Let me talk to Goldcamp.” It took a minute to convince his friend, but he finally did.

 

“I’ll have your wounded back to the palace in about three hours,” said Cummings. “And we’ve got some pretty good first aid equipment on the ship, so don’t worry.”

 

“Okay, Ian. Thanks.”

 

“Good luck! I’ll be listening for your call. Now go find them.”

 

“Thanks. See you later.”

 

Arkadi headed south. Dawn was still four hours away.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sheela pulled Piotr out of the water. She was gasping for breath and shivering almost uncontrollably. She couldn’t ever remember being so cold! The boy was limp but breathing. She dragged him higher up the muddy bank and looked him over. There was an ugly bruise and a small cut over his left eye. He must have hit his head when they fell into the river. She had some bumps and bruises from the rocks, too, but she was amazed they both hadn’t been killed.

 

But what was happening? She remembered falling off her horse, falling off the bridge—in spite of Piotr’s insanely brave attempt to save her—and then tumbling helplessly through the rapids. She’d held onto the boy and then managed to get her head above water. She’d never done much swimming, but somehow she’d stayed up long enough to grab a large floating branch. She’d shouted for help, but the current was incredibly strong and they’d been swept away.

 

She had no idea how far they’d floated, kilometers, surely. Finally, the river had become broader and the current weak enough that she could paddle into shallower water and then drag herself and the boy ashore. But where were they? Had the others gotten away? Tam and Arkadi? Well, she could find out…

 

“Shit…” Her communicator was gone. She ran her hand up and down the edge of her vest and the tiny microphone wasn’t there. Patting her pockets, both of the computer pads were gone, too. Even the earbud was gone. All washed away in those first frantic moments in the tumbling water, no doubt. The stunner had flown out of her hand when she first fell off the horse.

 

“Shit.” The situation called for stronger expletives, but she just didn’t have the energy. She was still shivering and she could see that Piotr was, too. They were both dripping wet and the air temperature couldn’t be that far above freezing. They had to find some shelter.

 

Groaning, she sat up and tried to rouse Piotr, but the boy remained asleep. Unconscious. Did he have a head injury? There was nothing she wanted more than to just close her eyes and lie down next to the boy. But if she did that they might never wake up. They could freeze to death out here. She stood up and stamped her feet, even though she could barely feel them. Then she stooped and picked up the boy and staggered upright. He was lighter then she’d feared, but she doubted she could carry him very far.

 

But she had to try.

 

Step by step she moved away from the river. Did any people live in this wilderness? There must be some somewhere. She stumbled through the darkness, falling frequently, but the effort did warm her up. Her shivering stopped, but pains that had been numbed by the cold started appearing. Her left knee, in particular hurt like hell. _Must have hit it on a rock…_

 

When she fell for about the tenth time, Piotr suddenly cried out and then started coughing. The eastern sky was brightening and Sheela stopped and looked at the boy. His eyes fluttered open and wandered around in confusion.

 

“Piotr! Are you all right? Can you hear me?”

 

“Where…? What happened?” he croaked. His eyes focused on her.

 

“We fell off the bridge and got washed downstream. Are you hurt?”

 

“My… head hurts. But where is Arkadi?”

 

“I would guess that he’s looking for us. But I lost my communicator. I can’t contact anyone and they can’t track us anymore. It might take a while for him to find us.”

 

“Yes, he’ll find us.” The boy sounded very certain. “There will probably be other people looking for us, too… but no, if Vorstakof is dead…”

 

“Why do you think Vorstakof is dead?” asked Sheela puzzled. How hard had the boy hit his head?

 

“But… but… you were with him, weren’t you? Your stunner… that’s how you…” The boy suddenly struggled upright. “Don’t tell me you didn’t kill him either! Just like you left Vorfallon?”

 

“I just stunned him. I mean I couldn’t…”

 

“What is the _matter_ with you people!” cried Piotr. “If Vorstakof was killed this whole rebellion would collapse! Oh bloody hell!” He shook his head and then winced. His hand came up to touch the bruise. “Ow…”

 

“You’ve got a nasty bump there. Here, let me see if I can make a bandage.” Sheela ripped a long strip off her sodden petticoat and gently tied it around Vorkosigan’s head. He was staring at her the whole time.

 

“Thank you for saving me, Lady Sheela,” he said. “I couldn’t believe it when you came through the door. That was very brave of you. Please forgive my harsh words just now.”

 

Sheela looked at him in wonder. “Are you sure you’re just ten years old, Piotr? You don’t talk like any ten-year old I’ve ever met.”

 

“I shall be a count someday. I must be ready for that duty. My father is having me trained for that day.”

 

_And if it weren’t for the fact that you’re just a child, I’d say he was doing a really good job._

 

“We need to find a shelter,” she said aloud. “Can you walk?”

 

“I think so.” She helped him to his feet and he could stand. He looked around. “How did we get way up here?”

 

“I carried you up from the river.” He looked impressed. “Komarran women are expected to be able to work like anyone else.”

 

“Indeed, milady?” he grinned at her and she smiled back. “Let’s go downhill. It’s easier and it will take us farther from Vorstakof.”

 

They started off, keeping well above the river, but staying in the valley it had cut through the hills. The sun came up and the temperature rose and it wasn’t nearly so bad as before. The effort of moving warmed them up. But they were exhausted and hungry and they needed a place to rest.

 

At one point the trees opened out into a meadow and she looked back the way they had come. “Oh,” she exclaimed, pointing. “That must be the Overlook way up there.” Far, far up the side of the mountain there was a gleam of reflected light. Probably off the windows of the big house. “We’ve come further than I thought.”

 

“But not far enough,” replied Vorkosigan. “Let’s keep moving, milady.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Are you sure this is the spot?” demanded Arkadi. “There isn’t anyone here!”

 

“I’ve got you plotted right on the same position as Sheela’s compad,” came Ian’s reply. “Within a dozen meters.”

 

“Damnation,” muttered Arkadi. It had taken him hours to work his way around back to the river and then follow it downstream to this spot. But there was nothing in sight. Just trees and the river. He began to spiral out in a search pattern, but he found nothing on the shore. He was steeling himself to look for a pair of sodden bodies when something gleamed from a pool at the water’s edge. The sun was just peeking over the far ridge. He trotted over and was both relieved and alarmed when he pulled one of the alien’s computer pads out of the water.

 

“Ian.”

 

“What?”

 

“I found Sheela’s computer, but there’s no one here.”

 

“She must have dropped it when she fell in the river. Damn! That means we can’t track her!”

 

“Not your way, anyhow,” replied the armsman. “I’ll have to do it my way. What’s your situation up there?”

 

“Just finished fueling. Tam’s throwing a fit, but I’ll start my de-orbit burn shortly. Uh… is your emperor likely to have me shot or something for all this?”

 

“No, he’ll save that for me when I get back. You’ll be fine. Talk to you later.”

 

Arkadi sighed and got back on the horse and pointed it downstream. He kept a sharp lookout for hostiles, but so far he’d seen and heard no one, not since the first hour when a swarm of Vorstakof’s men had come down from his lodge and swept the area around the bridge. It was entirely possible that they didn’t know about Sheela and the boy falling into the river. If they thought they’d all escaped on the shuttle they wouldn’t even be looking for them. That was a comforting thought. And if Vorstakof thought that he’d lost all of his bargaining chips, what would he do then? Flee? Try to negotiate a surrender? Fight to the last?

 

It didn’t really matter, he supposed. His only task was to find Piotr—and Sheela—and get them to safety.

 

He got on with it.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“There must be someone close,” said Piotr suddenly. Sheela stopped and looked around in alarm, but saw nothing but trees.

 

“How do you know?’ she asked.

 

“The smoke. Can’t you smell it?”

 

“What…? Oh, right.” Fire. People burned things to keep warm. What a novel concept. They’d been walking all morning. It must be nearly noon and she was very tired and very hungry. “Do we dare approach anyone?”

 

“There’s no way any news about us could have reached this far yet. We could see what it is. But…”

 

“But what?”

 

“Well, sometimes there are bandits in the hills. And you’re a woman. And we’re both unarmed.”

 

“What? Do you mean they might want to… uh, rape me?”

 

“Yes.” The boy blushed.

 

“Well, if they feed us, it might be a good bargain. I’m starving.”

 

“My lady!” The boy looked shocked.

 

“Just joking, Piotr. Well, not about the starving part, I’m afraid.”

 

“All right. Let’s see what it is. But we can’t let them know who we are. Except they’ll know we’re Vor just from our clothes.”

 

“Okay, I’m Lady Vor… uh, Vorlahn and you’re my nephew… Stanley.”

 

“Stanley?”

 

“Not a good name? What do you suggest?”

 

“Piotr’s a common name. That’ll do.”

 

“Okay, if you say so. Let’s go.” They started moving again and Sheela winced. Her knee was getting worse and it had stiffened up while they were talking. She must have really hurt it badly. She had noticed that Piotr was favoring his left arm. “Did you hurt your arm?” she asked.

 

“ _I_ didn’t, no. But it is hurt. The shoulder.”

 

“You mean that Vorfallon did it?” she asked in shocked outrage.

 

“Tryin’ to get me to talk, yeah. Didn’t tell him nothing, though.”

 

“Why, that monster!”

 

“That is his reputation. Vorstakof’s dog.”

 

“I _should_ have cut his throat!”

 

“Yes, milady,” sighed the boy. “You should have.”

 

They pushed through the woods and the smell of smoke got stronger. Then they came to a clearing and saw some fences and planted fields and across the clearing was a small house with smoke drifting out of a stone chimney. Sheela didn’t want to try climbing the fence with her skirts and her knee, so they took the long way around. As they got closer to the house a dog started barking. Several of them, actually. “Oh dear,” she said, slowing down.

 

“It’s all right,” said Piotr. “They’re just to give the folks warning. They won’t attack unless we threaten the owners. Don’t you have dogs on Komarr?”

 

“A few do. But with the domes we live in pets can be awkward.” She’d seen dogs back home, but she’d never been fond of them. These sounded large—and dangerous. But the boy led the way and she had no choice but to follow. Soon she saw several large animals barking and growling. She had no intention of walking up to one of those!

 

But a moment later a man emerged from the house carrying a long thin gun of some sort. He was tall and brawny and full-bearded. A woman looked out the door from behind him. “Who’s that?” shouted the man.

 

“We’re friends,” said Sheela. “We mean no harm and we could use some help.”

 

“Who are you?”

 

“I am Sheela Vorlahn and this is my nephew, Piotr. We were out riding and… and our horses went into the river. We’re cold and wet and we could use some food. Will you help us?”

 

“You’re alone?” asked the man suspiciously.

 

“Yes. I imagine the rest of our party is looking for us, but the river carried us a long, long way before we could get out. Please, we’re both hurt.”

 

“I can give you five marks if you’ll help us,’ said Piotr, holding up a coin.

 

The man seemed to relax and he motioned to the woman. “Give them a hand. Max! Rogue! Heel!” Apparently the second half of his command was for the dogs. They settled down but still looked wary. The woman came forward and Sheela saw that she was quite young, probably younger than herself. She shyly took them into the house. The man relieved Piotr of his coin as they passed, but did not follow them in.

 

The house was built of logs, just as the Count’s Overlook had been, but it was far less lavish. Downright crude, actually. The floor was just packed dirt. But it was indoors and reasonably warm and there were a couple of wooden chairs and Sheela gratefully sank into one. The woman appeared with a mug of tea for each of them and Sheela wrapped her chilled fingers around it and drank. There was no sugar but she didn’t care. Oh, that was good! She could feel the heat seeping out along her limbs. “Thank you,” she sighed. “Thank you.”

 

“You and the lad need to be gettin’ out o’ those wet clothes, milady,” said the woman. “I might be able to find a shirt and trousers for him, but I have nothin’ fittin’ for a fine lady like yourself.”

 

“Oh, it doesn’t matter. Anything. Anything at all. What’s your name?”

 

“Merilee, milady.”

 

“Then whatever you have, Merilee. And thank you.” The woman blushed and made a curtsey and then scampered up a set of steps to a loft area that overlooked the main floor. Sheela could hear her rummaging around and after a moment she returned with clothes for Piotr.

 

“I’ve laid out a few things for you on the bed, milady. You can go up and change, if you like. I’ll have the food ready for you soon.”

 

Sheela tried to stand, but her knee was now so painful she could barely walk. Marilee helped her up the steps, but burning smells from below forced her to rush back to her cooking. Sheela sat on the bed and slowly and painfully stripped off her clothing. She discovered that she had an amazing collection of bruises, cuts and scrapes. She winced when she looked at her knee. It was twice its normal size and an ugly dark purple. Had she broken the damn thing?

 

Getting dressed again might have been impossible except that the clothes Marilee had to offer were vastly simpler than what she’d been wearing. Just a plain shift that only came down to her shins. Underwear was limited to a sort of loincloth that she wrapped around her awkwardly. Well, no one would mistake her for a Vor now! There was a towel, or something that she gingerly wrapped around her knee. Then she hobbled back down the steps.

 

Piotr was now wearing a set of trousers much too big for him. A piece of rope served as a belt and the cuffs were folded up five or six times. He was holding a shirt, but he looked helplessly toward her. “My lady, I… I can’t raise my arm to get this on.”

 

“Here, let me help.” She did so and then chuckled. “A fine pair we make! One with no arm, one with no leg!”

 

“But together we’re more than a match for anyone, aren’t we?” he said, laughing in turn.

 

“The food is on the table, milady” said Marilee. “I’ll hang your clothes up outside to dry. I’ll put your boots and stockings by the fire there.”

 

“Thank you.” They limped over to the rough table and sat and ate. The meal consisted of bread, those groat-things that they’d had at Vorkosigan’s castle, and thin slices of the _scrapple_. She hadn’t like the scrapple before, but now she wolfed it down and it wasn’t half bad. _Hunger: Nature’s finest condiment._

 

Merilee came back in and then a few minutes later, the man. “No one else around,” he stated, looking closely at them. “Where’re you from?”

 

Almost completely ignorant of the local geography, Sheela knew she couldn’t bluff the man. “We were guests of Count Vorstakof at The Overlook. But like we said: we were out riding last evening and fell in the river. We were washed a long ways before we managed to get out again.” The truth might not be the cleverest thing to say, but she couldn’t think of any other story that wouldn’t raise all sorts of questions she couldn’t answer.

 

“So the Count’ll be lookin’ for you?”

 

“Well, I should hope so!” replied Sheela as haughtily as she could manage. “I’d hate to think he’d just assume we were dead and not bother!”

 

“Might be quite a while ‘fore he sends anyone to look way out here. Mayhap I could go into the village an’ get word sent up to him.” He raised an eyebrow and there was a hungry gleam in his eye.

 

Sheela hesitated. The last thing they wanted was word getting to Vorstakof about where they were! But to refuse would seem very strange…

 

“How long would that take?’ asked Piotr suddenly.

 

“If I started now, I could get to Holstin by nightfall. If Speaker Wilhem’s got a horse handy the word might get up to the Count’s place before midnight. He could send someone here to fetch you tomorrow I guess.”

 

A full day, almost. They could be long gone. “Oh, that would be splendid!” she said. “We—and the Count—would be _very_ grateful for your help, Mr…?”

 

“Gundersun,” said the man, smiling for the first time. “Hans Gundersun.” He took a breath and then grabbed his gun from where he’d leaned it. “Then I best be going! Merilee, take good care of ‘em ‘til I get back, you understand?”

 

“Yes, Hans.”

 

Gundersun thumped out of the house, calling for one of the dogs, and was gone. The woman looked back at them anxiously. “Is there anything I can get you, milady? Milord?”

 

“For right now just a place to lie down, Merilee. We haven’t slept since the night before last and we’re very tired.”

 

“Oh! Of course! Come, you can use our bed!” she gestured to the loft.

 

Thinking ahead to their probably nighttime escape, Sheela shook her head. “I… I don’t think I can make it up the stairs again with this knee. Could you just bring some blankets down here? Right now I think I could sleep lying on a rock.”

 

The woman looked dubious, but she quickly did her best to make them comfortable, even hauling down the straw-filled mattress from upstairs. Sheela and Piotr curled up side by side and wrapped themselves in blankets.

 

“We can’t stay here long,” whispered Piotr.

 

“I know, but we can’t get far without rest. We’ll leave after dark, all right?”

 

“All right.”

 

“Marilee? If we’re not up, please wake us for dinner.”

 

“Yes, milady.”

 

Sheela closed her eyes and was asleep in seconds.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Arkadi studied the tracks and sighed in relief. Two sets. _Two_. The boy was alive! The relief he felt was as great as when he found the drag marks on the bank of the river. He’d spent hours searching the shoreline for some trace of Piotr and the woman. He’d come miles downstream without finding anything. It had been well after noon before he found those first marks. Someone had pulled themselves out of the water at that point. But from there only one set of tracks had led away. Boot prints, larger than what a boy would wear. The woman, Lady Sheela’s boots. So only she had made it out of the river? Where was Piotr? He’d nearly despaired.

 

But he followed the trail she’d left and after almost a mile he’d come to here where the brush was flattened down. And leading away were two sets of tracks! One large and one smaller. The woman must have been carrying Piotr! He looked back the way he had come and silently whistled. She’d _carried_ him all this way? Exhausted and probably hurt herself, he was impressed. Very impressed. _I misjudged you, my lady._

His instinct was to follow immediately, but he was nearly exhausted himself. He pulled a strip of jerky out of a pouch hanging from his belt and chewed on it. As he ate, his communicator suddenly came to life. “Arkadi? You there? It’s Ian.”

 

“I’m here. I just found their tracks. They’re both alive.”

 

“Well thanks God for that! That’s great news! But… uh, I’ve got some bad news.”

 

“What? Where are you?”

 

“At the palace. All your injured are in good hands, but…”

 

“Are you under arrest or something? Let me talk to the Count!”

 

“No, no, he’s right here and I just told him about his son. He says that he wants a word with you once you all get back, but…”

 

“But what?”

 

“Well, I’m having some trouble with the shuttle. The number two anti-grav unit is off-line. I almost crashed this heap right into the palace! Just barely got it down! Damn it, I _told_ Tam that we needed to overhaul this piece of junk before we left Komarr, but nooo, it cost too much, we wouldn’t need it on this trip! “

 

“Ian…”

 

“The penny-pinching git just doesn’t realize that you can’t put things like that off until…”

 

“Ian!”

 

“What?”

 

“Can you fix it?”

 

“Well… probably. Yeah, I can fix it up good enough to take off and get back to the ship, but I don’t dare try a landing again until I can tear this thing apart and really fix it. That’ll take at least a couple of days with the facilities I have.”

 

“So you can’t pick us up.”

 

“No. I’m sorry, Arkadi, but it would be suicide to try. Odds are I’d crash trying to land or not be able to take off again if I did manage to land in one piece. I’m sorry.”

 

“It’s all right. We’ll just have to get out of here on our feet. I ought to be able to catch up with Piotr and Sheela before dark. We’ll keep following the river down into the lowlands. Give the Count my position and see if he can have the Emperor send a column of cavalry to meet us, all right?”

 

“Will do! Good luck, man!”

 

“Thanks.”

 

Arkadi sighed, stood up, took the horse’s reins and got moving.

 

_They can’t be too far ahead of me._

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I can’t make it any tighter without cutting off your blood, my lady,” said Piotr. He looked at the splints he’d made for the woman with sticks and strips of cloth. Her knee was terribly swollen and he feared it was broken. Arkadi had taught him the arts of first aid in the field and he’d learned well. But there wasn’t much more he could do for an injury like this.

 

“It’ll have to do,” she replied. “And for God’s sake call me Sheela, will you? I’m no lady.”

 

“Yes you are. A very great lady in my eyes. But I will call you Sheela if you wish. But once we’re on our way perhaps I can find something to make you a crutch or a walking stick.”

 

“That would be good. “ She pushed herself out of her chair and hobbled around the room for a bit. She winced, but at least she could move. Piotr’s shoulder still hurt, but not as badly. He had a large lump on his head, but it only hurt if he touched it.

 

At a noise from outside Sheela quickly resumed her seat and brushed down her skirt. The woman came in carrying their clothes.

 

“I think these are dry, milady,” she said. “I’ll have supper for you in a little bit.” She busied herself at the fire.

 

“We should probably not wear those, should we?” whispered Sheela, nodding toward their clothes. “They’d make us pretty obvious, wouldn’t they?”

 

“Well, our boots would still give us away to anyone looking close. But yeah, if we want to blend in, we should keep wearing these.” He indicated their loaned clothing.

 

“When should we leave?”

 

“Farm folk sleep early. We should lay down right after the meal and she probably will, too. We can sneak out after she’s asleep.”

 

“Okay.”

 

So they let the woman serve them dinner, which in content was little different from the earlier meal. They talked very little, which probably suited their host perfectly. The woman seemed very unnerved having to share her house with a pair of Vor. After the meal, he and Sheela lay down on their mattress and pretended to go to sleep. The woman cleaned up and puttered around for a while, but then retreated to the loft. Piotr wasn’t sure what she was sleeping on.

 

It was a struggle not to fall asleep for real. It had been a very long and trying couple of days and the five or six hours they had managed in the afternoon weren’t nearly enough. But they had to get out of here while they could. Enemies probably wouldn’t arrive until morning, but they needed to be far away from here before they did.

 

They waited at least an hour after the woman had stopped moving around, although it seemed far longer. He and Sheela made whispered plans about what they ought to take with them. A blanket apiece to ward off the cold, some bread, a couple of knives…

 

“I feel bad about stealing these things,” whispered Sheela. “These people are so poor.”

 

“Don’t worry,” he replied. “We’re leaving our clothes in exchange and they’re probably worth more than this whole farm. They’ll make out all right.” He didn’t say anything about what might happen when the Count’s men arrived to find their quarry gone…

 

Finally, they could wait no longer. They silently rose and Piotr collected what they would need, so Sheela didn’t have to move any more than she had to on her bad leg. He handed her a small knife and he grinned when she slid it into the sheath in her boot. The dying fire in the fireplace gave him all the light he needed. The dirt floor made no sound beneath his boots. He eased the door open and motioned to Sheela for her to follow.

 

They had gone about twenty paces when the dog started barking.

 

“Shit!” hissed Sheela.

 

“Come on!” said Piotr and they hurried toward the woods as fast as they could.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“No sign of them, my lord,” said Lord Vorfallon grimly. “We scoured the area and found nothing. They must have all gotten aboard the flying machine. They’ll be back in Vorbarr Sultana by now.”

 

Count Vorstakof nodded and took another gulp of brandy from his glass. Gone. The aliens and his hostage were gone. His last hope was gone.

 

“My lord,” said Vorfallon. “Imperial troops have broken through the militia we had along the rail lines. Our people are falling back, but the enemy could be in Vorstakof Savoy in less than a week. Other reports say that cavalry columns are heading in this direction. It’s obvious they knew we were here all along.”

 

Vorstakof nodded. The end. The end was coming.

 

“My lord,” persisted Vorfallon. “We have to make plans.”

 

“Plans?” snorted Vorstakof. “What plans could we make now that would make any difference?”

 

“If Dorca’s troops take the crossroads we’ll be trapped here. We need to move…”

 

“Where? Where could we run that Dorca won’t find us? It’s over!”

 

Vorfallon came closer. “It’s not over while we breathe, Viktor! As long as you are alive, as long as your son is alive we still have hope. Did you give up when your father died? Now snap out of it man!” Vorfallon took the glass out of his hand and set it aside.

 

Anger flared briefly in Vorstakoff, but then it passed and he nodded. “Forgive me, my friend. The strain of the last few days…”

 

“Nothing to forgive, my lord. But come, let’s take a look at the map.”

 

Vorstakoff pushed himself out of the chair and walked over to the large map on the wall of his study. Perhaps there might be some way out…

 

While they pondered and talked, he heard a horse galloping into the compound, but he paid it no mind. Men had been coming and going all day and all night bringing bad news. But then there were rapid steps in the hallway and excited voices and both he and Vorfallon turned toward the door. It opened after only the most perfunctory knock and several breathless men, including Vorjervis burst in.

 

“What? Dorca here already?” muttered Vorstakof.

 

“My lord!” cried Vorjervis. “A messenger! A woman and a boy answering the description of Lady Sheela and Lord Vorkosigan have been sighted!”

 

“What? Where?” exclaimed Vorstakof.

 

“A little village called Holstin, my lord. Maybe twenty miles southeast of here!”

 

He turned back to the map and squinted. “Damn it, bring that lamp closer! Where…? There! How the hell did they get there?” he asked incredulously. It was every bit of twenty miles in a straight line. Much longer by any road. “Are you sure?”

 

“The woman called herself Lady Vorlahn and she said the boy was her nephew Piotr. They claimed they had fallen in the river and been washed downstream, my lord.”

 

Vorstakoff traced the river with his finger. “It might be possible…”

 

“The men did report a commotion on the bridge during the fight and they found a dead horse there afterwards, my lord,” said Vorfallon. “They couldn’t see what had happened, but maybe…” he shrugged. “It doesn’t matter, my lord! We have no choice but to assume it is them!”

 

“Yes… yes…” He shook off the fog the brandy had put in his brain and tried to think. Any chance of getting the aliens’ weapons was gone. Unfortunately, he believed what the drunken alien captain had said. No help would come on that front. But Vorkosigan’s boy… yes… such a hostage would never overthrow Dorca, the bastard would sacrifice anyone and everyone to hold his crown. But Vorkosigan’s son might just buy the life of his own son. He doubted that anything could save his own life now, but his son… Perhaps the Vorbarra’s overthrow would have to wait for a new generation.

 

He turned to Vorfallon. “Go at once, Anton. Get the boy. I’ll follow as soon as I can collect everyone from here. The woman means nothing now, but get the boy!”

 

“Yes my lord!” Vorfallon was out the door in an instant.

 

 

 

 

 

Chapter 9

 

 

Arkadi peered through the leaves at the farmhouse. A faint curl of smoke came from the chimney and a dog slept near the back door. Nothing else was moving in the gray pre-dawn light. The trail had led here; was Piotr inside? With the woman? It looked like a simple farmer’s homestead, why had they come here? _Because they were tired and cold and hungry, you idiot! Just like you!_

 

He’d hoped to have found them long before this, but when night fell the day before he’d lost their trail. He’d stumbled around in the dark trying to find it again, but at last he’d given up and collapsed to wait for daylight. In truth he’d badly needed the sleep himself. He’d been on the go for how long now? He couldn’t remember.

 

He was awake again at the first glimmer and was chagrinned to find their trail scarcely a hundred paces from where he’d slept and this farm less than half a mile further on. If he’d just had another fifteen minutes of light…!

 

The trail led here, but were they inside? He was afraid to just go barging in. The dog would give an alarm and the last thing he needed was to have his brains blown out by some terrified farmer! He faded back into the woods and collected his horse again and began to circle around to the other side of the place. Maybe he could see something from there.

 

He reached the south side of the farm and saw the small vegetable patch, the stack of split wood and the block on which it had been split. All completely ordinary. Maybe he should just shout a halloo and see what happened.

 

He moved a bit farther and stopped dead. There were tracks in the ground at his feet. He squatted down. It was them! Sheela’s and Piotr’s boots! By this time he knew their shapes by heart. Two sets of tracks and they were heading south, away from the farm! Perhaps they hadn’t stopped here after all. But where were they now? Surely they must have had to stop for rest somewhere.

 

He led the horse and followed the tracks for fifty yards into the woods when he heard a noise behind him. Hoofbeats! A lot of them! Someone was coming to the farm! His first instinct was to keep going, but he wanted to know who this was and if they were the enemy. It could affect what he’d do next. Leaving the horse, he silently made his way back to edge of the woods. He drew his pistol, keenly aware that he only had a dozen rounds left for it after the fight at the bridge.

 

Eight or ten riders were coming up the narrow track leading to the farm. The dog was barking noisily and there was another dog running up with the horsemen. As he watched a woman emerged from the house and he sucked in his breath when for an instant he thought it was Sheela. She was wearing Sheela’s vest, but it wasn’t the alien woman. But she must have been here! Was she still inside? The tracks said no, but maybe she’d doubled back. He readied his pistol.

 

The riders slowed to a halt and a big man jumped down from his horse awkwardly, surely not an experienced rider. The others spread out to surround the house. And one of them… _Vorfallon!_ Damnation, it was Vorstakof’s number two man! Arkadi had seen him a number of times in Vorbarr Sultana. Vorfallon guided his horse up behind the bearded man who had come up to the woman. Several of his men went to the door of the house and rushed in. Arkadi tensed. Twelve bullets and ten of them, not good odds at all.

 

But there was no sound except for the dogs and shortly the men emerged. “No one here, my lord,” said one of them. “But they were here!” He held up a bundle of clothes.

 

“What?” roared the bearded man. He turned on the woman. “Where are they?”

 

The woman fell to her knees in terror. “They ran off! In the middle of the night!” she sobbed. “I tried to stop them, really I did! Hans, please!”

 

The man reared back and struck her and she fell flat, still sobbing. “Fool! Idiot!” he shouted. But then he turned back to Vorfallon. “But milord! They were here! I didn’t steer you wrong! It’s not my fault that this worthless woman…” Vorfallon’s pistol cut off the man’s protest in mid-sentence. The man clutched his chest and collapsed. The woman shrieked for a moment before a second shot silenced her. Two more shots took care of the dogs. Vorfallon’s face was twisted in fury.

 

 _Keep going you swine! Shoot a few of your men, too, and I’ll take the rest of you on!_ Arkadi’s fist clenched his pistol.

 

But Vorfallon shot no one else and his face regained its usual icy stare. “Search the area!” he shouted to his men. “Find their trail! They can’t have gotten too far! Georg, you will stay here and wait for the Count to arrive with the others and then lead him after us!”

 

His men rushed to obey and Arkadi quickly retreated back into the woods before he was seen. He grabbed the horse and followed the trail for a hundred yards or so until he came to a spot where it grew faint. He then quickly obscured the next dozen paces the best he could and then took his horse and walked it in a circle, leaving very obvious prints in the ground. Then he mounted again and headed east, toward the river. With any luck a tracker would think that he’d intercepted the pair and hoisted both of them onto his horse. If he was very lucky, they would follow him instead of Piotr and Sheela.

 

Now all he had to do was lead them off on this false trail and then double back and find the real trail again. And then find them.

 

_But where the hell are they?_

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“I’m sorry, Piotr, but I have to stop for a while!” gasped Sheela. Without waiting for an answer she flopped to the ground with a groan of pain.

 

Piotr sat down next to her. They hadn’t gone nearly fast enough, but he could tell the woman was in agony from her knee. “Is it worse?” he asked.

 

“Maybe… hard to really sort out unbearable from excruciating anymore, y’know?” She gave him a weird grin and he instinctively patted her shoulder. “How far do you think we’ve come?”

 

“Oh, six or seven miles.”

 

“Is that all?” she sighed. “We’ve been walking for hours!”

 

“Not in a very straight line. And we’re not going very fast.”

 

“I’m sorry I’m slowing you down, Piotr. If they catch up with us, you have to run as fast as you can.”

 

“I’m not leaving you!”

 

“I thought your father was teaching you about duty? It’s your duty to get away. I’m of no use to them anymore, I don’t think. Now that they know there aren’t any weapons close at hand. But they could still use you against your father and the Emperor.”

 

Piotr stared at the woman in amazement. He’d thought these aliens were all cowards, people without honor. And here she was reminding him of his duty! But there was no way he was going to abandon her to Vorstakof. He suddenly got up. “I’m going to make you a better crutch. You rest for a while.”

 

He searched the forest floor and eventually found a stick that might do. It was sturdy and about the right length and had part of a fork at one end that would do for Sheela to fit under her arm. A little work with his knife and it was pretty good. He then cut off the cuffs of his much-too-long pants and wrapped one piece around the forked end to give her some padding and the other around the other end in hopes that the stick wouldn’t sink into the ground every time she put her weight on it. He took it back to her and she was surprised and pleased and he helped her get up and try it.

 

“Oh! That’s much better! Thank you, so much! Let’s get moving.” They started off and she did seem to be able to move more easily and they made better time. He only had a vague idea of where they were or where they were going. The river valley they were following should connect with the Gershwon River at some point and that would take them out of Vorstakof’s district and into friendly territory. And surely they would run into Imperial troops before that! But how far or how long, he really couldn’t guess. When he got out of this, he was going to memorize every map he could lay his hands on!

 

After about an hour they stopped and ate the last of their purloined food. He wasn’t sure of the time, clouds had been building all day and he couldn’t see the sun. Afternoon, he guessed. They’d have to find some sort of shelter before night. It looked like rain and there was a chill breeze coming up. He pulled the stolen blanket closer around him.

 

They got moving again and suddenly Sheela made a noise of surprise. “Oh! What happened here?”

 

Piotr looked and was confused for a moment and then understood. They were just crossing the top of a ridge and the opposite slope was a mass of red and brown vegetation. No trees at all. Not a speck of green, either. “Oh, that’s the native Barrayaran plants, my… Sheela. I guess no one’s bothered to burn this area out and try planting Earth plants. There are lots of places like this, especially in the mountains. And I’ve heard that most of South Continent is like this, too.”

 

“Really? But yes, I should have realized. We saw so much of this from orbit. They look… nasty.”

 

“Some of them are. They’ll give you rashes and a few are deadly. Try not to touch any with bare skin while we go down.”

 

“I guess we can’t go around them…” they looked along the ridge, but it was a solid mass of red-brown, except where there were rock slides where nothing would grow.

 

“Not unless we want to go a long way out of our way. Come on, it won’t be too bad.” They started down, but Sheela was beginning to falter.  She looked near exhaustion. They weren’t going to be able to go much farther today. He wasn’t in much better shape himself.

 

They were about halfway down the slope when Piotr looked back and then stiffened. There was a horseman silhouetted against the sky at the top of the ridge! “Shit!” he shouted. “Come on! We’ve got to get to the trees at the bottom!”

 

They increased their pace and slid and scrambled as fast as they could. There was a stream at the bottom, some tributary of the river, and green trees lined it. More forest was on the opposite ridge and if they could reach there, they might find somewhere to hide. He looked back again, but he could see nothing now. Were they being chased? There were no shouts, no gunfire, had he imagined seeing the figure?

 

But they didn’t dare stop. They reached the trees and then the stream. It was shallow, but rocky and before he could think to help her, Sheela was down. By the time he had her up and out, they were both soaked to the skin in the cold water. They were struggling up the other side when Sheela suddenly gasped.

 

Standing in front of them, holding a horse, was a tall figure.

 

“Well,” he said. “You’ve certainly led me on a merry chase!”

 

_“Arkadi!”_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sheela couldn’t do anything but stand there, leaning on her crutch, and gape. It really was Arkadi Kurzov. The tall armsman was dirty and unshaven and his clothes were torn, but he was still a beautiful sight.

 

And then, to her amazement, she saw Piotr transform from the frighteningly disciplined future Count Vorkosigan back into a ten-year old boy. He dashed forward with a shout of delight and flung himself into Arkadi’s arms, nearly knocking the man over. But the look of joy on the boy’s face disappeared and then he was sobbing into the man’s shoulder.

 

And then, then, the last thing she would have expected, the gruff bodyguard closed his arms around Piotr and hugged him close. His face was twisted into an astonishing expression of relief and—was it possible?—love? There was a glint of moisture around his eyes and then he saw her staring and he turned partly away so she couldn’t see.

 

“I knew you’d find us!” sobbed Piotr. “I knew you would!”

 

“’Course I did, ‘course I did,” said Arkadi in a husky voice. “But you shouldn’t go off and get lost like this, you know.”

 

“We weren’t _lost_! We were escaping from the enemy!” Piotr scrubbed the tears off his cheeks and looked scandalized.

 

“Yes, of course you were. And you did a good job of it, too! Well done, my lord.” He held the boy away from him and they both grinned.

 

“It was Lady Sheela who got us out,” said Piotr, pointing at her. “You should have seen her, Arkadi! She just had that stunner, but she blasted anyone who got in our way! She shot Lord Vorfallon! And then when we fell in the river, I got knocked on the head. I would have drowned for sure, but she pulled me out!”

 

Arkadi stared at her with a strange gleam in his eye. He set Piotr down and stepped over to her and sank to one knee. “Then I am forever in your debt, my lady.”

 

“Oh don’t be silly,” she said automatically, but in reality she was quite touched. “I was saving myself, too, don’t forget.”

 

“I won’t forget anything, my lady. Ever.  But you’re hurt and here I am yapping away!”

 

“Oh, it’s nothing… well, no, it’s not. Yes, I am hurt, pretty badly, I’m afraid.”

 

He reached for the hem of her shift. “May I?”

 

“Go ahead.”

 

He slowly lifted the hem until her knee was exposed and he grimaced. “Yes, you’re hurt. Well, that settles any question about who rides the horse! This tired beast can hardly carry me any farther, but he might be able to carry you for a few miles more. You can walk, can’t you, my lord?”

 

“Sure!” said the boy.

 

“Are we being pursued, armsman?” she asked.

 

“Yes. But I think I’ve thrown them off the trail for a while, at least. They’ll find it again, but I don’t think they’ll be able to catch up to us before it gets dark. We need to find a good hiding spot for the night.”

 

“But… but you’ve still got your communicator, don’t you?” asked Sheela with a growing feeling of dread. “Can’t you just call Ian and have him pick us up in the shuttle?”

 

“I’m afraid not, my lady. He tells me that some part of the machine—I don’t pretend to know anything about it—has broken and it will take him several days to fix.”

 

“Oh hell…”

 

“So, we will have to use our feet, and the hooves of the horse for as long as they last, to get ourselves out of here. But your friends can still track me, or us, actually, here I found your computer.” He handed her one of the devices, but she just held out her hands helplessly.

 

“I don’t have any pockets anymore.”

 

“Well, perhaps you can hold onto this, my lord?” Piotr took it eagerly.

 

“How does it work?”

 

“I can show you later,” said Sheela. “So I guess we need to keep moving?” She desperately wanted him to contradict her, but unfortunately he didn’t.

 

“I’m afraid so. You left a very plain trail to follow up to here. We need to go at least a few more miles—and much more carefully. And then find a concealed spot for the night.” He looked up. “It will rain before morning, so some shelter would be good, too. And you are both soaked, we need to get you dry.”

 

“Shouldn’t you at least tell everyone you found us?”

 

Arkadi twitched and then shook his head. “I keep forgetting I can do things like that!” He contacted Danno on the ship and they all exchanged greetings and the jump-pilot promised to pass the message to Weitzl, who, presumably, would pass it on to the Emperor’s people.

 

“But now we need to get moving.” He carefully lifted her up onto the horse, who seemed rather unhappy about the new rider. With Piotr leading the horse and Arkadi picking the path, they started up the opposite ridge. The uneven motion of the horse sent waves of pain through her knee, but there was nothing for it. It was better than trying to walk on it at least.

 

She tried to see just how Arkadi was avoiding leaving a clear trail, but she was too tired to concentrate and soon fell into a sort of doze. She’d jerk awake from time to time to avoid tumbling off the beast and look around and see nothing but trees which looked just like all the other trees. If it weren’t for the steady waves of pain, she’d swear they weren’t moving at all.

 

A large rain drop hit her square on the nose and she realized the horse had stopped. Arkadi was pacing around and Piotr was watching him. “All right,” he announced, “this should do. We can stop here for tonight. With any luck the rain will wash away any tracks we’ve left.” He came over to her and helped her down. She couldn’t put any weight on her leg at all and he put her right on the ground and wrapped a blanket around her. There was a cleft in a small rock cliff behind them and Piotr and Arkadi started gathering leaves and pine branches to make a sort of nest.

 

“We can’t risk a fire, I’m afraid,” said Arkadi. “We’re going to have to huddle together for warmth.” The rain was coming down heavier now and it was getting very cold. The men managed to roof over the cleft—more or less—and the three of them crowded into it, parking the horse just in front of it. Arkadi had a few strips of some sort of dried meat which they shared. It barely relieved Sheela’s pangs of hunger, but it was better than nothing.

 

Arkadi carefully removed the splints Piotr had put on her leg—and pronounced them well done, much to Piotr’s satisfaction—and wrapped a cloth loosely around the knee to give it some padding. But there wasn’t much else he could do. After quite a bit of repositioning, they finally ended up nestled like spoons: Piotr’s back snugged against Sheela’s front and her back against Arkadi, who wrapped his arms around both of them. The two blankets almost covered them all.

 

By this time the rain was coming down steadily and a fair amount was leaking through their impromptu roof. But Sheela was far more aware of the big armsman holding her so closely. His steady breathing blew on her hair and was strangely comforting. She fell asleep thinking about those amazing tears in his eyes.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Arkadi woke up before dawn and was shocked to find that sometime during the night Sheela had somehow rolled over and they were now lying face to face. He wasn’t sure how that could have happened without his noticing…

 

There were things he needed to do, but he lay for a while longer, looking at her face, just barely visible in the gloom. She really was a fine looking woman. And brave. He knew how much pain that knee must have been causing her, but she’d never complained. And she fought her way out of Vorstakof’s stronghold and saved Piotr! Hell, she’d probably saved him and Goldcamp and the other five men, too, because there hadn’t been a chance in a thousand his crazy plan would have worked. Well, three of the others men, anyway, since two of them had died. _That’s your fault, man._ Yes, quite a woman. Brave, honorable… _and she’s not Vor…_ That last thought came out of nowhere and shocked him. It led placed he didn’t want to go.

 

So instead, he carefully disentangled himself from the other two, tucked the blanket around them, and emerged from the cleft of rock. It had stopped raining, but the clouds looked like it could start again. He took the horse and retied it in a patch of grass so it could graze and then began to scout around. There was no sign of any danger, but it might not be far off. Before they’d stopped yesterday he’d spotted a rocky bluff a little farther on. Perhaps he could get a view of the countryside from there. He hiked up, working the stiffness out of his muscles, and scrambled up the rocks.

 

There was a good view, as he’d hoped, so he stayed low to avoid giving anyone a view of _him_. Yesterday he’d deliberately headed a bit west, away from the most direct route to safety. Their pursuers would expect them to keep following the smaller river down toward the Gershwon and the Emperor’s troops. Hopefully they wouldn’t have expected them to head in this direction, higher into the hills. The move seemed to have worked since they hadn’t been found yet.

 

Unfortunately, the move also let their pursuers get between them and help.

 

Arkadi squinted and peered to the east. There was a heavy mist down toward the river and it made a backdrop that silhouetted a nearer ridge. He looked closer… _Damn._ Yes, there were two or three tiny specks moving along that ridge. There would be no reason for any locals to be up and out there this early. They must be Vorfallon’s men. Or in any case he’d have to assume they were. They were almost due east and headed south—right across the path they needed to take. But fortunately, they weren’t headed this way… yet.

 

His initial thought was that perhaps they could let these men go on and then cut across behind them, get to the smaller river, cross over it somehow, and then head southeast on the other side. But then he remembered what Vorfallon had said back at that farm: Count Vorstakof was going to be following with all the rest of his men. Apparently he was abandoning the Overlook and getting out while he still could. If Arkadi tried to cut across the rear of Vorfallon’s advanced party he might run right into the rest of them. No. East and southeast were not directions he wanted to go today.

 

He used the communicator to call the aliens and get an update on the overall situation. As he’d expected, the shuttle was still broken, although it had reached the alien ship and Ian was working frantically on it. Imperial troops were moving on Vorstakof Savoy and the resistance seemed to be collapsing. A strong column expected to reach the Overlook by tomorrow. Unfortunately, there was no route for them to cut across country and come directly to where Arkadi and the others were located. They’d have to come the long way around and that might take three days. On the other hand, there was a regiment of cavalry—the Emperor’s Own Lancers, no less—that had been shipped by rail from Vorbarr Sultana and made a forced march and were now in the town of Yardly, only forty miles away to the southeast. Unfortunately, that was the direction they dare not go.

 

“Well,” said Arkadi to the alien pilot, Danno, who was relaying information, “the only thing that really matters now is for us not to get caught. I don’t want to stay here, we’re too close to the enemy, but if we headed west, we could put some distance between us and then just wait until the troops can get to us or Ian can fix your vehicle.”

 

“That might be best,” replied Danno. “But there is one thing. I’ve been watching the weather patterns in your area and there looks to be a big storm headed your way. If I’m seeing things right, the higher elevations are getting a lot of snow. You really need to find some shelter.”

 

Arkadi frowned. It was the very end of summer down in the lowlands and farther south. But up here, this far north, they often got autumn snowstorms in the mountains. As exhausted and hungry as they all were, he wasn’t sure they could survive a heavy snow.

 

“There’s a little village, just a few houses, about ten kilometers, er, maybe six miles, west of you, Arkadi. Maybe you could head that way.”

 

It would be risky, but not as risky as staying out in the open. No heavy clothing, only two blankets, no tent, no food, not daring to make a fire… “Okay, thanks, we’ll move that way today and see how the weather turns. We’ll let you know what we decide when we get there.”

 

“Right. Good luck.”

 

He came back down off the bluff, being careful not to expose himself—those riders on the far ridge might have binoculars—and went back to where he’d left the others. They were both awake and looked relieved to see him. “Where did you go?” demanded Piotr.

 

“Just scouting,” he replied. “The enemy is off to the east, so we are going to be moving west today. Uphill, I’m afraid, but we need to avoid them until help can arrive.”

 

“And how soon is that likely to be?” asked Lady Sheela.

 

“At least two days, I’m afraid. I’m sorry, but there it is. How is your knee feeling?”

 

“I don’t know. I’m so cold I can’t feel anything.” She had a blanket wrapped around her, but she was shivering. He was feeling pretty well warmed up from his exertions and the sensible thing would have been for him to share his warmth with her, but for some reason he found himself very reluctant to touch her. _You’re being stupid. Stop it._ He went over and sat down next to her and had her lean against him while he rubbed her arms and back vigorously. She said that it was helping although it was probably warming him more than her. He noticed Piotr stamping his feet and walking in circles. And all of their stomachs were growling. _Yeah, we have to find real shelter before the storm gets here._

 

He looked at their camping site and reluctantly concluded there was no hope of concealing the fact that they’d been here with less than an hour’s work and they didn’t have the hour. They had to get going.

 

He examined Sheela’s knee and told himself that it looked a little better. He re-wrapped it, but did not put the splints back on. “We need to move. There’s a village to the west and we’ll get food there.” Neither of them tried to argue. He lifted her up and got her on the horse. He was worried about the horse, too. He’d been pushing the beast without mercy and he wasn’t sure how much farther it could go. He made sure they took Lady Sheela’s splints and crutch with them just in case.

 

At first they made pretty good time, although he had to pick their path carefully. Climbing the eastern slope they would be exposing themselves to any watcher farther east just the way he’d spotted those riders earlier. So they stayed in the trees as much as possible, forcing them to take a roundabout route. By mid-morning they had crossed over the ridge and ought to be out of sight from the east. But shortly after that the horse threw a shoe and it was quickly apparent the poor beast could go no further. At least not carrying a rider on this sort of ground.

 

So the splints went back on and Arkadi put Sheela’s arm over his shoulders and they struggled on. Piotr did the scouting now, while leading the horse, and the boy was as careful and cautious as he could have wished. By noon the clouds, which had thinned somewhat during the morning were becoming gray and ominous again and a cutting wind was whipping down from the northwest. He checked in with Danno and got a fix on their position. The village was just another two miles away.

 

They caught sight of the village just about the time the first flakes of snow started falling. Arkadi insisted on scouting the place thoroughly before they went in, but he realized they didn’t have much time before Piotr and Sheela would be risking frostbite. He left them in some thick bushes and then quickly went forward. He returned about fifteen minutes later.

 

“W-what did you s-see?” asked Piotr, shivering in his blanket.

 

“It looks to be all right. Nothing unusual, no crowds of horses. Most of the houses are closed up against the storm. There’s one house a little apart from the rest. There’s smoke coming out of the chimney so someone’s there. I think we’ll try that one.”

 

“F-four walls and a r-roof and a fire is all I ask right now,” said Sheela.

 

“And you shall have that, my lady! But we are still in Vorstakof’s district so we have to be careful. I think we should pose as a family on a trip who has gotten lost. Piotr, we’ll pretend to be your friend Daren’s family. You are Daren Dakman, I am Boris Dakman and Lady Sheela you are Gina Dakman, all right? Good. Come on, let’s go.” He helped her up and they started out again. The wind was stronger and the snow coming down harder and the light was starting to fail even though sunset was hours away. He steered them by the quickest route, no need for stealth now: visibility was dropping fast.

 

They reached the house without encountering anyone or being challenged. He pounded on the door until someone opened it. A middle-aged woman with tousled hair and a frantic look on her face stared at them in surprise. “Who are you? What do you want?” she demanded.

 

“I’m Boris Dakman and this is my family. Please, we’ve gotten lost and my wife is hurt and we need food and shelter. Will you help us?”

 

The woman looked of a mind to slam the door in their faces, but she hesitated. “I will, but you have to help us in return. Can you chop wood?”

 

“Of course…”

 

“Can your boy cook a meal?”

 

“Sure I can!” exclaimed Piotr.

 

“And you, woman,” she said pointing at Sheela. “Do you know any healing skills?”

 

“Well, I’ve had some first aid training in school, but…”

 

“You’ve got two hands! All right then! Come in and warm yourselves. But then we need wood chopped! We’re nearly out. Boy, you can draw some water. The well’s in the back. And you, woman, come and help us.”

 

“Help? With what?” Sheela looked dazed.

 

“With my daughter-in-law! She’s fixing to have her baby!”

 

“What!” exclaimed Arkadi and Sheela in unison.

 

“When?” asked Piotr.

 

“Right now, boy! Right now!”

 

 

Chapter 10

 

 

Count Vorstakof wearily dismounted and let a man take his horse. He looked back at the column of his men as they dispersed to find food and shelter in this village for the night. A hundred men. His total force was down to a hundred men. Well, Vorfallon had a dozen more and there were a few scouts and agents here and there. And there was the district militia, too, out there sacrificing themselves against Dorca’s well-trained and equipped regiments in a hopeless effort to buy their lord time.

 

But all he had under his immediate command were these hundred. When his father had marched out to meet Dorca at Neshaminy, he’d had over four thousand in his army alone. With his allied counts there had been nearly fifty thousand. Fifty thousand and they’d still lost. Tonight, he had a hundred. There was a fear and a weariness in him that filled his soul.

 

Another man directed him and his son to a house that had been commandeered for his use. There was hot food and wine waiting. Very welcome after the chill rain that had been falling on them much of the afternoon. Up in the mountains it would be snow. _An early winter—but I knew that, didn’t I?_

 

They ate and drank mostly in silence. He could tell that his son was worried but hiding it as well as he could. The luster was fading very quickly from this adventure. Men came and went, giving information and asking for orders. Vorstakof responded automatically, but he couldn’t remember ever feeling so tired.

 

Eventually Vorfallon arrived, but from the look on his usually imperturbable face, he knew he wasn’t bearing any good news. He flopped down in a chair and a servant scrambled to provide him with food and drink. Vorstakof gave him a few minutes and then said: “Well?”

 

“Not a trace of them, my lord. I felt sure that we would have run them down before now, but that false trail near the farm led us astray and before we could double back the rain had washed away too much of the true trail. But that rider did double back and he did catch up with the woman and the boy. That much I’m sure of. And I have to say: whoever was on that horse that picked them up knew his business.”

 

“You’re sure there was just one rider?”

 

“We found no trace of anyone else. But if there was a larger party with more horses then, well…” he held out his hands.

 

“The game would be over.” A large, well equipped party could have ridden hard and be completely out of reach by now.

 

“So! We have to assume that there was just the one and the quarry is still out there somewhere. Once I realized we’d lost the trail I spread my people out along the river and pushed downstream. With your people coming up now we have a cordon across their path.”

 

Vorstakof nodded. “But we have no idea where they are, or where they’re going and all they have to do is lay low until Dorca’s troops drive us off and find them.” He shook his head and took a drink from the wine.

 

 “Viktor, I’ve been thinking about this and there are a few conclusions I’ve come to.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Well first, the aliens had some means of communications with them while we had them. Somehow they were in touch with their compatriots and somehow they knew we were at the Overlook.”

 

“I have to agree with you. The drive on Vorstakof Savoy was a feint to distract us from their rescue attempt. Just as our defense of the approach to the town was a feint to draw them away from us!” He snorted in disgust at the idea that Dorca had outwitted him.

 

“Yes. But their rescue attempt went awry. It’s apparent they managed to get Captain Hodgkins away in their flying machine, but the woman and the boy fell in the river and got left behind. Correct?”

 

“So it would seem.”

 

“But if they were able to track the aliens why didn’t the flying machine just go and pick them up downstream? Or later at that farm where we know they spent the night? We know the boy and the woman were still on foot—later on horseback—a day after they escaped. Why?”

 

“We know so little about the aliens’ capabilities…” said Vorstakof. “But if I had to guess, I’d say that for some reason they can no longer track them. But neither can we and time is on their side, Anton”

 

“Yes, my lord. But wait… do you have a map?”

 

“I can get one.” He sent a servant to get the map in his baggage. He returned with it shortly and they unfolded it on a table.

 

“Now we are here,” said Vorstakof, pointing to the map. “We have a cordon of people along here…”

 

“But the woman and the boy could be anywhere in this whole region,” interrupted Vorstakof, moving his hand over a large section of the map. “After you lost them, they could have gone any direction but east. They must know as well as we do that all they have to do is avoid us and they’ll eventually be rescued.”

 

“Ah, but I have a new bit of information that I haven’t had a chance to tell you yet, my lord,” said Vorfallon with a grin.

 

“What?”

 

“I got word from a militia officer that there’s a force of Imperial cavalry in Yardley.” His finger went to a point on the map east of their cordon.

 

“So what? Dorca’s got a dozen columns moving into the district.”

 

“Ah, but he was able to identify these troops! The Emperor’s Own Lancers. The whole regiment.”

 

“What difference does… oh…” Vorstakof looked sharply at his man.

 

“Yes! One of Dorca’s best regiments, it was still in the capital only a week ago. Why send it there? There’s nothing of importance in Yardley. Certainly nothing of importance in these god-forsaken mountains. Why send them here instead of the Overlook or Vorstakof Savoy where they can make a victory parade of it?”

 

“Because they know there _is_ something important here!” cried Vorstakof. “He’d want his best and most reliable troops here!” Then he frowned. “But that would mean they _do_ still have communications with them, doesn’t it? So why doesn’t the flying vehicle come get them?”

 

“Not necessarily. Perhaps when they planned the raid to rescue them they made some back up plans just in case something went wrong. They might have set up a rendezvous point, well away from where our people would likely be. They would go there and wait for rescue.”

 

“It would have had to be a fixed point—and we don’t know where, Anton! We don’t have the time or men to search every village, farmstead, and cave over five hundred square miles!”

 

“We don’t have to, Viktor! The Emperor’s lancers will show us where the spot is! Just stay ahead of them and they will point us right to the rendezvous!”

 

Vorstakof sat back in his chair.

 

“It could work, father,” said his son. “And what other choice do we have now?”

 

“None at all. All right then! That simplifies our task enormously. Tomorrow we just fall back in front of the Lancers no matter where they go, searching every possible hiding place in their path.”

 

“Yes,” said Vorfallon. And then in a lower voice: “And even if we don’t find them we’ll still have room to run.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The woman was still moaning. How many hours had this been going on? Sheela had no clue. She sat on a chair next to the bed, stroking the woman’s hand and trying to rest her aching knee. _Childbirth!_ She looked with a sort of fascinated horror at the woman’s quivering belly. There was a baby in there trying to get out. Or at least the woman’s body wanted the baby out, the baby didn’t seem to want to go. The woman’s name was Kara and the older woman, her mother-in-law, was named Ludmilla. A younger girl, a niece if she’d heard correctly, was Darra. The three of them were the only ones there before Sheela and the others arrived.

 

Sheela looked up as Arkadi came into the house with another load of wood.  There was a roaring fire to keep the house as warm as possible and the armsman had to work hard to feed it. After the gnawing cold of the last two days it had felt wonderful at first, but now even Sheela was wishing for a puff of cooler air. She pushed herself to her feet and limped over to Arkadi. “Still snowing?” she asked.

 

“Starting to let up, I think,” he replied. “Have you gotten any sleep?”

 

“A few hours here and there.”

 

“How’s it going?” he nodded toward the woman in the bed.

 

“Arkadi!” she hissed quietly. “I don’t know anything about this!”

 

“What? I thought all woman were born knowing how to help other women give birth.” He was trying to make it a joke, but Sheela wasn’t laughing.

 

“Not on Komarr! We don’t… we don’t do it this way there!”

 

“You don’t have babies? Then how’d you get here?”

 

“We don’t do it like this! We use uterine replicators.”

 

“Huh?”

 

How to explain? “Do you remember that conversation at the first dinner? In Vorkosigan Surleau? Where we talked about growing meat in vats?”

 

“Yeah…” The man’s eyes were wide and he took a half-step back from her.

 

“Well we sort of do the same things with babies. They grow inside tanks instead of the woman. Then, when they’re ready, we just open the lid and take them out. No labor! Nothing like this!”

 

Arkadi looked horrified. “So… so men and women on your world don’t…” He looked her up and down. “You know.”

 

“Of course they do! Just not to make babies!” She looked over to Kara. “All I can do for her is hold her hand and mop the sweat off her head.”

 

“Well, if that’s all you can do, it’s still better than nothing, I guess. Piotr’s still sleeping?”

 

“Yes,” she said nodding toward a pile of blankets in one corner where the boy was curled up. “He’s as worn out as any of us.” She paused and then said: “You’re very fond of him, aren’t you? I mean above and beyond your duty to protect him and all.”

 

Arkadi looked away for an instant but then nodded. “Yes. He’s a fine lad. Someday he’ll be a great count. And a good man, too.”

 

“He’s not a bad cook, either. Did you teach him that?”

 

Arkadi started to reply but then there was a much louder moan from the woman and Ludmilla shouted for Sheela. Reluctantly she went back to her chair. She saw Arkadi visually measuring the pile of split wood next to the fireplace, nod, and then sit down and close his eyes.

 

“Good man you’ve got there,” said the older woman. “Doesn’t complain.”

 

“How… how much longer is this likely to go on?” Sheela nodded toward Kara.

 

“Who knows? You’ve been through it yourself, haven’t you?” She looked toward Piotr.

 

“He… he was easy,” she lied. “Just an hour or two and he popped right out.”

 

“You were lucky. But I should have suspected this would be a hard one. I was a day and half with the father.”

 

“Where is the father?” asked Sheela. She’d been wondering, but was afraid to ask.

 

“Off with all the other men. One of the Count’s men came through five days ago calling out the militia. Some sort of trouble off to the east. Picked a hell of a time for it. Hope they’re back soon.”

 

A chill went through Sheela. From the information Danno had been passing them it sounded like the Emperor’s army was smashing through the militia easily. She hadn’t really given a thought about just who those militia were. Kara might be a widow by now…

 

It went on. Sheela slept in her chair on and off and did what little she could in between. Just after dawn she got up and went to the door and looked out. The snow had nearly stopped, but the vista it had left behind was breathtaking. A soft white blanket had covered everything. The ground, the houses, the trees. Amazing…

 

“Do you have this on your own world?” She jumped. Arkadi had come up silently next to her.

 

“No, not really. It does snow sometimes, but outside the domes, of course. This is… this is beautiful.”

 

“From inside it is…”

 

“Shut that door!” shouted Ludmilla. And get over here, woman! I think it’s happening!”

 

Sheela turned with a jerk. Kara was thrashing more violently than ever and crying out. She shut the door and hurried over. Arkadi drifted along with her. The noise had woken Piotr and the girl, Darra, was there, too. “What do I do?” asked Sheela. She felt as frightened as she did facing Count Vorstakof’s wrath.

 

“Just be ready with those towels. Looks like this is gonna be a real mess.”

 

As she watched in fascination, the baby’s head emerged. Dark, wet hair… then the face, wrinkled like a pink prune… _a new person entering the universe… welcome, little person, welcome…_ then the shoulders, the mother screamed as they came out. _The widest part, the rest should be easier…_ Then…

 

Then…

 

“Oh, God!” hissed Arkadi. Darra gasped and Ludmilla groaned. Piotr didn’t make a sound, but his eyes were like saucers.

 

The left arm looked perfectly normal, but the right arm. There was no right arm. Just a little bump below the shoulder. Then the rest of the baby squirted out and she saw that both legs were shriveled and twisted. It was a girl.

 

“Oh dear, the poor little thing!”

 

“What?” cried the mother. “What’s wrong?”

 

“Hush, hush, Kara,” said Ludmilla, giving Sheela a scathing look. “You rest. You rest. I’ll take care of things, dear.” The mother began to sob.

 

“But…” said Sheela.

 

“ _You_ clean things up and keep your mouth shut! And don’t forget the afterbirth is still coming. Boy! Bring some hot water!” Piotr jerked like he’d been slapped. He took one more look at the baby and then dashed to the fireplace. Ludmilla cut the umbilical in one sure motion and then scooped up the baby in a towel and moved away. Arkadi went with her muttering something about helping.

 

Sheela just stared for a few moments and then the placenta emerged and she gingerly wrapped that in another towel and set it aside. Piotr appeared with a kettle of hot water and Sheela busied herself wiping up the bloody mess that remained. Kara was still sobbing hysterically while Darra tried to comfort her.

 

“Oh! Oh! Jon will never forgive me!” she wailed. “My fault! All my fault…!”

 

“It’s not anyone’s fault!” protested Sheela. “It was a mu…”

 

“I _know_ it was a mutie!” screamed the woman suddenly. “You don’t have to tell me that! Get away! Leave me alone!” The woman actually lashed out at her and Sheela cringed back. She retreated to the far side of the room, shaking.

 

It was only then that she noticed that Arkadi and Ludmilla were gone.

 

A few moments later they both came back in through the door. Arkadi glanced at her and then went to the fireplace and started rearranging the wood pile for no purpose at all. Ludmilla went back to her daughter-in-law. But…

 

But…

 

She went over to Arkadi.

 

“Where’s the baby?” The man gave her a look of incomprehension.

 

“Arkadi! _Where’s the baby?”_

 

“Where do you think?” he growled.

 

Her eyes went to the door. “No!” she cried and sprang up despite her knee and rushed outside. Barbarians! Had they left it in the snow to die of exposure? How could they? She looked around frantically and caught sight of the footprints in the snow. She hobbled along the track, the shin-high snow spilling down her boot tops. The trail led around the house to the corner of the fenced-in back yard, near the shed where they’d put their horse.

 

No baby.

 

Just a small patch of freshly turned earth. “No…!” moaned Sheela. She started to kneel down.

 

A hand grabbed her and pulled her roughly back. It was Arkadi. “What do you think you’re doing, woman? What’s the matter with you?”

 

“What’s the matter with me?” she cried. “Me? What did you do?”

 

“The grandmother cut the thing’s throat, as was proper, and I buried it. What the hell else could we do with a mutie like that?”

 

“Do? Do? It was a _baby_! A baby girl!”

 

“It was a mutie. I don’t suppose you have _those_ on Komarr either?” His voice was angry, dripping with sarcasm.

 

Sheela rocked back, madder than she’d ever been in her life. She slapped Arkadi’s face as hard as she could. “Murderer!” Then she fled back into the house.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Piotr tried to help with the cleaning up, but he was shaking so badly the old woman chased him away. He stumbled around aimlessly for a few moments, the horrible image of that… _thing_ wouldn’t leave his head. He’d seen horses born, even helped with them, he’d seen sheep and dogs born. But this… God! How awful!

 

He was still trying to figure out what to do when Sheela fell in through the door. She collapsed in a corner, sobbing. The other women just gave her a nasty look and shook their heads. Piotr slowly went over to her. “Are you all right?”

 

“How could they? How could they?” she choked. “It was a baby!”

 

“It was a mutie, my lady. A monster. It had to be done.” The woman just wept harder. Piotr looked for Arkadi, but he was still outside somewhere. For lack of anything better, he sat down next to Sheela and listened to her cry.

 

“How could he? How could he?” she kept repeating.

 

“He didn’t enjoy it! What kind of a man do you think he is?”

 

“Not the man I thought!” she replied angrily. “When I saw him with you, I thought… I thought that maybe he had some shred of humanity in him! But I was wrong!”

 

“You do him wrong, my lady.  I…” He hesitated.

 

“What?” She stared at him, eyes red and cheeks wet.

 

“When I was seven or eight I was playing in the hayloft of the stables. I heard a couple of the other armsmen talking. They didn’t know I was up there. They were talking about Arkadi. They said… they said that when he was very young he was married…”

 

“Him?” exclaimed Sheela scornfully. “Pity the woman!”

 

“He was married,” repeated Pitor and he frowned at her. “His wife died in childbirth. I don’t… I don’t know if it was a mutie, but they both died. After that he joined the army for a while and then became one of my father’s armsmen. He has feelings, my lady. Trust me on that.” The alien woman stared at him for quite a while and then she turned away and buried her face in her hands. But at least she’d stopped crying. Piotr got up and moved away. After a while the girl, Darra came over to him.

 

“Your mother is kind of high-strung, isn’t she?” she asked.

 

“My mo…? Oh! Yeah! She’s always been like that. Something that happened when she was little, I think, but no one’s ever told me about it. Most of the time she’s okay.”

 

“What about your da? Why hasn’t he gone with the other men in the militia?”

 

“First we’ve even heard about it. We were on a trip to visit some kin down south and got lost in the hills. Mighty kind of you folks to take us in! We thank you for it.”

 

“Couldn’t let you freeze. And you’ve earned your keep. Well some of you have,” she added glancing at Sheela. “Come on, we need to fix breakfast.”

 

He went over to the hearth and began preparing the morning meal. As they worked, the girl kept eyeing him. Finally he said: “What?”

 

“Nice boots,” said Darra.

 

“Oh, thanks. My da did some work for a nice Vor lady and she gave these—they were her son’s—to me and a pair of hers to my mother. Cast-offs, but _nice_ cast-offs.” He grinned and congratulated himself on the neat lie. “I’ll be sad when I outgrow these.”

 

“Uh huh. Did she give your da that fine revolver, too?”

 

Piotr’s grin faded.

 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

 

“Uh huh.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Arkadi stomped around outside for a while to blow off steam. Crazy woman! What was the matter with her? This was a tragedy, sure, but one that must happen a hundred times a day all over Barrayar. What the hell did she expect people to do? The little thing was far better off dead. _She’s from somewhere else. Somewhere where things like this don’t happen. She’s being unfair with you, sure but, don’t you be unfair with her._

 

He calmed down a bit and then called the alien ship to get the latest news. There wasn’t much that concerned him. The main army was only a day away from Vorstakof Savoy and the column moving on the Overlook would be there even sooner. _Nobody’s even home there now._ The force in Yardley was supposed to push on this morning, but there was no telegraph connection there, so any information would be coming from courier riders a full day from the nearest telegraph. A damn shame the colonel of the Lancers didn’t have a communicator! There would be no way for Arkadi to coordinate their movements with the cavalry. “Just stay put and they’ll come to you,” advised Danno. “With the snow I guess you couldn’t go anywhere anyway, eh?”

 

“Not today, no.” But Arkadi could see that the clouds were gone and the sun would be out soon and the wind had shifted to the southwest. The snow would melt quickly as it did this time of year. By tomorrow there probably wouldn’t be a trace of it except in shady areas. “We’ll be able to travel tomorrow if we have to.”

 

“Well, with any luck you won’t have to. Okay, talk to you later.”

 

The situation made Arkadi uneasy. He didn’t like just sitting here and trusting that someone else would come and rescue them. The little village, which had been their refuge during the storm, felt more like a trap now that the sun was shining.

 

Putting off going back inside, he went and checked on the horse in the shed. It was still lame and he doubted it would be ready to move any time soon. Short of stealing them, he could see no way of getting mounts for the three of them, and stealing them wasn’t really an option right now. He doubted there were three serviceable horses in the whole village. So if they were going to move it would be on their own feet. And that meant…

 

Steeling himself, he went back into the house. Piotr was working with the girl to make breakfast and Sheela was slumped in a corner. He went over to her. She glared at him, but said nothing. “We may have to move on tomorrow. Can I look at your knee?”

 

She didn’t say anything, but pulled her skirt up high enough so that he could see. The swelling had definitely gone down and that was a relief. If it was truly broken there would be no improvement. The purple discoloration had spread but it was a bit fainter, a sign of healing. “How badly is it hurting you?” he asked.

 

“Not too bad.”

 

“Well, you rest today. Try not to walk on it.”

 

“Fine.” She turned her face away from him.

 

Sighing, he went and got two plates of food from Piotr and brought one over to Sheela and sat down next to her. “Eat. You need to keep up your strength.” She took it and ate, saying nothing and never quite looking at him. Piotr joined them shortly.

 

“So what do we do next?” he asked.

 

“I don’t like the idea of just sitting here and waiting for the Lancers,” he replied quietly. “Vorstakof’s still looking for us and all it would take is one word from these locals about strangers and he’d be sure to investigate. And even without that, the militia is still opposing the Imperial advances. There could be detachments in this area and wouldn’t it be grand if they decided this village was a good place to make a stand?” He snorted. “I might get drafted into the defense! Wouldn’t that be embarrassing?”

 

“So what do we do?” repeated the boy.

 

“Today we rest. We’ve all taken a beating the last couple of days. With the snow, nothing’s going to be happening anyway. But it will be mostly gone by tomorrow and the Lancers ought to be getting close. We’ll leave tomorrow morning and find some spot with a good vantage point. I’m thinking that spot where we camped the other night might do. If the cavalry knows their business—and I’m sure they do—they’ll be sending out a swarm of scouting parties in a wide arc ahead of their advance. We’ll try to contact one of those. In the meantime let’s get some sleep. I’ll take the first watch.”

 

The others agreed and he took their plates to wash up. Both of them were asleep before he got back. The women were still fussing over and consoling the grieving mother and he spent a while splitting a bit more wood. It was warming up already and the snow was melting fast. When he came back in the older woman came over to him.

 

“Thank you for your help with… with everything.”

 

“I’m sorry it didn’t turn out better. But thank you for letting us stay. We would have been in real trouble otherwise.”

 

“Why in the world were you out there in the first place?”

 

“Oh, just some bad luck and some bad decisions on my part. But we’ll be moving on in the morning—assuming we’re welcome to stay another night.”

 

“You’re welcome. I daresay we all need some sleep after what happened.”

 

“Is your daughter-in-law all right?”

 

“She’ll get over it. She’s not the first one to have a mutie. My boy will probably take it hard, though. Wish he’d get back here.”

 

“Yes, what’s all this talk about the militia being called up? We hadn’t heard a thing.”

 

“Don’t’ know for sure. Not like they’d tell us, eh? Some sort of dispute between the Count and the Emperor, the rumormongers say. I just hope no fighting gets up this way. I remember the last war. A couple of villages not that far away got burned to the ground. We don’t need that now with winter coming on!”

 

“No. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” The woman nodded and went back to her daughter-in-law. Arkadi sat down next to the others and tried to stay awake.

 

At noon he woke the others and they ate lunch. Their hosts were mostly sleeping now and paid them little mind. “Piotr, I am going to have to sleep for a while this afternoon. That means you will have to stand watch. Lady Sheela needs to rest her knee as much as possible so she can walk tomorrow. I’m going to be counting on you.”

 

“I understand,” said the boy.

 

“You’ll need to take a look outside from time to time, but do not get far from the house. Try not to let anyone see you. Understand?”

 

“Sure.”

 

“All right then. Wake me for dinner.” Sheela hadn’t said a word. Arkadi leaned back against the wall and slept.

 

Some time later Piotr was shaking him awake. “Arkadi! Wake up!” he whispered.

 

“What is it? “Arkadi was instantly awake, reaching for his pistol.

 

“I’m not sure. I can see smoke. A lot of it!”

 

Arkadi got to his feet and followed the boy outside. The lad pointed to the east. It was late afternoon and beyond the nearby ridge he could see a dark smudge against more distant clouds, bright in the sunshine. “Come on, let’s take a look.”

 

The snow was now just a few inches of slush and they slopped their way up to a hill where they could get a view to the east. Arkadi carefully surveyed their surroundings as they went, but no one seemed to be around. Peering over the crest, they could look down the valley and there was no doubt something big was on fire maybe ten miles away. Several somethings. “What do you think it is?” asked Piotr.

 

“A village maybe. Houses for sure. The question is whether it’s Vorstakof’s men burning them in front of the Lancers to slow their advance, or if it’s the Lancers burning things just for fun.”

 

“Fun?”

 

“Soldiers do that, boy. Pyromaniacs, every one of ‘em.”

 

“Are we still leaving in the morning?”

 

“Oh yes.” _Maybe sooner._

 

“Good. I think that girl, Darra, is suspicious of us. She keeps asking questions about where we’re from and where we’re going and who we’re related to.”

 

“We’ll need to keep a watch tonight, too. With the Lancers this close there could be all sorts of stragglers coming through.”

 

He took one last look at the smoke and then turned back toward the house.

 

“I think tomorrow is going to be very interesting.”

 

 

 

Chapter 11

 

 

Sheela groaned when Arkadi shook her awake. Time to go already? The previous day and then the long night had seemed endless with her waking up frequently, but she felt like she could sleep for another week.  It was still dark, but she could see Piotr working by the fire.

 

“We’ll have some breakfast for you soon,” said Arkadi. “But first let me wrap up that knee of yours.”

 

The man had made a new set of splints and wrappings and a real crutch for her yesterday and now he put them on. She was intensely aware of his touch. “There,” he said when he was done. “Give this a try.” He helped her up and she gingerly put her weight on the bad leg. It ached, but not too badly. She was able to waddle around in a stiff-legged fashion without much pain and the crutch made it even better.

 

Piotr served tea and then breakfast and her head seemed to clear as she ate. As they were preparing to leave the woman, Ludmilla, approached them carrying something. “So you’re going?”

 

“Yes,” said Arkadi. “We have to.”

 

“My niece thinks you are deserters or thieves or worse,” she said.

 

“And what do you think?”

 

“I think that you helped us when we needed help. And that you took no more from us than you needed—though you had the power to take anything you wanted. In my ledger, that’s all that counts. Good luck to you, Boris Dakman.”

 

“Thank you, for all your kindness.”

 

The woman held up what she was carrying. Two sheepskin jackets. “These were my son’s until he outgrew them. I don’t… I don’t think we’ll be needing them again. It’s still cold outside and it will get cold again. Your wife and son are welcome to them.”

 

“Thank you!” said Sheela, gratefully taking the warm garment and putting it on in place of the thin blanket she had been wearing.

 

“Our horse is too lame to go with us,” said Arkadi. “You’re welcome to him. He might recover enough to be worth something.”

 

The woman thanked him and then they left the house. It was getting light off to the east, but still dark in the village. Arkadi had decided that they would go through the village and take the road leading to the west and then try to double-back unobserved. But as they approached the main part of the village, perhaps a dozen houses clustered together, they noticed some sort of commotion and Arkadi slowed them down and finally stopped them so he could scout ahead. Sheela huddled with Piotr next to a fence for some long anxious minutes until the armsman reappeared.

 

“It’s all right. Come with me and don’t stop or say anything.”

 

He led them down the unpaved road and ahead they could see several fires that had been built outside and people clustered around them. As they got closer Sheela saw that there were fifty or sixty of them, all in tight clumps. Mostly women and children, but a few men, mostly older. They had bags and bundles and all manner of stuff with them…

 

_Refugees!_

 

She stared in amazement, but couldn’t meet any of their eyes. Arkadi led them on past and one of them called out and said something about the fire and food. They kept going. When they were past the village she said: “This is because of us, isn’t it? This wouldn’t be happening if we hadn’t come here?”

 

“If you hadn’t come to our world, then, no, this wouldn’t be happening.”

 

“Arkadi!” protested Piotr. “Lady Sheela had no idea this would happen. You’re not being fair!”

 

“Fair? Welcome to Barrayar.”

 

They walked about a mile to the west of the village. Sheela’s knee was throbbing, but it wasn’t too bad--yet. The road was muddy, but the snow was mostly gone. After they turned a bend and a stand of trees shielded them from the village, they turned off the road and moved north. There was a long, wooded ridge ahead of them, apparently the same ridge they’d camped along three nights earlier. Once they reached it, they would turn east and go back to that camp if they could find it.

 

But the ridge proved to be much more difficult than Arkadi had counted on. Not only was there still deep snow in the shaded areas under the trees, but many of the deciduous trees, still carrying their summer foliage, had cracked and fallen under the weight of the heavy snow. Toppled trees and broken branches were everywhere and often blocked their path. They stumbled and fell and moved very slowly.

 

Cursing and grumbling, Arkadi eventually stopped and called Danno on the ship. He confirmed that the valley on the other side of the ridge appeared to be uninhabited and less heavily wooded. So instead of following the ridge immediately, they cut clear across it to the northern side. It was hard going, but once they were across it got easier. Despite being on the north side, the snow was much less and because the trees were thinner, there were fewer obstructions. They made better time for a while.

 

By noon Arkadi estimated that they had made it back to about due north of the village. Sheela guessed they had walked nearly ten kilometers only to end up two kilometers from where they started. But she supposed it was worth it if it threw pursuers off their trail. They halted and had a meal from the food that Ludmilla had given them. Sheela was very tired and her knee was getting more painful. Arkadi let them rest for an hour or so. At one point Piotr went off to answer the call of nature and she was left alone with Arkadi. The man had scarcely spoken to her all day. She couldn’t really blame him.

 

“Armsman?” she said.

 

“Yes.” He didn’t look at her.

 

“I’m sorry I hit you. And sorry for the things I said.” Now he did look at her. “I was wrong to pass judgment on you and your people. I’m a stranger here and I don’t have the right.”

 

He stared at her for a while and then grunted and nodded his head. “Sorry you had to see that.”

 

She let out a long sigh. “There is so much we could help you with! Those mutations are caused by the radiation from the supernova—the Great Fire of your legends. It’s damaged the genetics… the _seed_ of some people. We can fix that! No baby ever need be killed like that again!”

 

“That would be a great blessing—if it could happen.”

 

“It can! Or it could! Your emperor should be spending his gold to buy gene scanners and uterine replicators and antibiotics instead of plasma arcs to burn the towns of rebellious counts! Count Vorstakof harangued me and Tam for an hour about Dorca’s tyranny. I didn’t believe him, but now I wonder if maybe I should.”

 

“If Dorca falls then _every_ count would be spending his gold to buy plasma arcs to burn his neighbors’ towns—and muties would still have their throats cut.”

 

“Yes… yes, I suppose…” Piotr returned and they fell silent, not wanting to discuss such things in front of the boy.

 

Sheela sat there, slowly chewing the last of her lunch. _Well, at least we’re talking to each other again…_

 

A motion in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned her head, stiffened, and sat upright.

 

“Oh look! Look there!”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Arkadi spun around and followed Sheela’s pointing finger, hand on his pistol. At first he didn’t see anything, but then, through a gap in the trees he saw, far down the slope of the ridge, a cluster of red and blue lance pennants, bobbing along!

 

“The Lancers!” cried Piotr catching sight of them as well. “The Lancers!”

 

They all sprang to their feet and hurried in the direction of their potential rescuers. They reached the edge of the woods and sure enough a group of about twenty cavalry were jogging along. But they were three quarters of a mile away, heading west, and already even with their position. Piotr jumped up and down, waving his arms and shouting. Arkadi waved and yelled as well.

 

But the cavalry didn’t notice.

 

“What are they? Deaf and blind?” snarled Arkadi. Well, there was only one thing for it. He drew his pistol and fired in the air. The loud crack echoed across the valley and the horsemen came to a ragged halt, looking around in all directions. Arkadi waved again and Piotr had never stopped. Even Sheela took off her new jacket and waved it like a flag. Finally the cavalry saw them and sorted themselves out and came up the slope toward them at a brisk trot.

 

“Oh, thank God,” sighed Sheela.

 

Arkadi let off a small sigh himself: the cavalry were towing four spare horses. Someone was actually thinking ahead. He put his pistol away. The troopers drew close and spread out, on guard in case this was some trick luring them into ambush. But a moment later they came to a halt a few paces away. The officer in command, a very young ensign, called out: “Lord Vorkosigan, I presume?”

 

Piotr stepped forward. “That’s me!” he cried proudly.

 

Belatedly, Arkadi realized that he’d been careless. What if this had been a trick on Vorstakof’s part? Fake troopers to draw them out. But no, the Emperor’s Own had some of the gaudiest uniforms in the army, even the campaign dress these troopers were wearing. Dark blue tunic and trousers with lots of red trim and brass buttons and their distinctive five-sided shakos with brass crests and tall white plumes. There was no way Vorstakof could have known ahead of time which regiment was being sent, let alone make copies of the uniforms. No, these were the genuine article. _Unless Vorstakoff’s men killed enough of them to make up a phony patrol with stolen uniforms… And we just happened to run into it? Stop worrying, man._

 

“And I am Ensign Vorklaus,” said the officer making a jaunty salute. “Honored to be at your service, my lord.”

 

“Thanks! This is my father’s armsman, Arkadi Kurzov, and this is… this is Lady Vorlahn,” said Piotr with a grin.

 

“Armsman. My lady.” He nodded in their direction. “Well! I expect you’d like a ride out of here!” said the ensign brightly.

 

“If you don’t mind,” said Arkadi. “Where is the rest of your regiment, ensign?”

 

“Oh six or seven miles back,” he replied. “But don’t worry, we’ll have you there in no time! Colonel Vormallus will be so pleased!” At his direction three of the horses were brought forward. Piotr climbed into the saddle, excited and far, far too energetic for someone who’d been through this ordeal. It just wasn’t fair. Arkadi waved away one of the troopers and helped Sheela onto a horse himself. He had to remove the splint on her leg so she could get her feet into the stirrups. Finally he hauled himself into the saddle of the third horse. The ensign gave the order and the party turned around and rode east.

 

“Quite a stroke of luck running into you!” chatted Vorklaus. “And to think I was so annoyed about being put at the far right of the scout line. Didn’t think we’d have a chance of finding anything. And I wasn’t all that keen about being alone out on the flank, either, truth to tell.”

 

“You boys been finding any trouble?”

 

“Oh nothing we couldn’t handle! These militia or partisans or hedge robbers or whatever you want to call them can’t fight worth a damn—begging your pardon, my lady,” he said nodding toward Sheela. “Most of them armed with old flintlocks or even bows! They’ll take a shot or two and then run. Drove ‘em like sheep all the way from the railhead to Yardley.” He paused and his expression grew more serious. “But since yesterday we’ve been running into a different sort. Disciplined, well mounted, and armed with good rifles.”

 

“Vorstakof’s men,” said Arkadi.

 

“Indeed? You mean the traitor himself is in the area?”

 

“So we are assuming. His only hope now is to seize Lord Vorkosigan. He can’t leave that to his lackeys. So he’s got to be close by.”

 

“Well! Perhaps this is really my lucky day! Just bringing back his lordship should get me a lieutenancy, but if I bag Vorstakof as well, I might just make captain!”

 

“Your _primary_ duty is to deliver Lord Vorkosigan to safety, Ensign,” said Arkadi very firmly.

 

“Of course! Of course! Don’t worry armsman!” He glanced at him, perhaps wondering just who outranked who in this situation. Arkadi grimly reflected that Vorklaus was closer in age to Piotr than to himself.

 

“It’s my job to worry. Did you run into any trouble getting here today?”

 

Vorklaus looked less jovial. “A bit. We only had three spare horses when we started. Some coward picked off my corporal from a thicket just after we started out this morning. Would have stopped and spitted the bastard if we’d had the time, but we had to move on. Lucky thing we did, too, isn’t it?”

 

“Yes, seen any more of them since then?”

 

“Some men on horseback from time to time. But never close. What? Are you thinking they might try an ambush on the way back?”

 

“The thought had occurred.”

 

“Well, it’s a shame you drew attention to yourself by firing your revolver, then.”

 

“I only fired it because you and your men didn’t see us standing in plain sight, waving and shouting our heads off.”

 

“Well, yes, but you were rather far away and…” Vorklaus muttered something inaudible and then excused himself and went off to shout at his men for a while. Arkadi drifted back next to Piotr and Lady Sheela.

 

“Is it really over?” asked the woman.

 

“Not quite. We still have to get back. And that reminds me, I suppose I should give Danno the news so he can pass it along.” He called the alien on his ship and told him that they had linked up with the cavalry. The man was elated.

 

“That’s great! I can tell Ian to ease off on the shuttle repairs. He says he’s nearly done, but the poor sod hasn’t slept in two days. Without some sleep he’ll end up doing more damage than good. I’ll pass along the news to Weitzl so he can tell the emperor, too. Hope to see you all soon!”

 

Arkadi clicked off, shaking his head that this Komarran would make telling his engineer a higher priority than telling the Emperor! He told the others about the conversation.

 

“You really rode on their shuttle, Arkadi?” asked Piotr. “Do you think I might get the chance?”

 

Arkadi inwardly shuddered at the memory—and the thought of his charge flying in that terrifying and unreliable device! “We’ll see,” was all he said in reply.

 

As they jogged along a great weariness seemed to fill him. It was almost impossible to believe all that had happened in the past week. What had he been doing before this mess had literally dropped into his lap out of the sky? What would he be doing once it was all over? When _would_ it be over? They would get back to the capital either by rail or—horrors!—by that damn shuttle and then what? Presumably the aliens and the Emperor would make their deals and then they would leave. _Sheela will leave…_ For some reason the thought disturbed him.

 

A faint gunshot instantly roused him from his reverie. His head jerked around, but he saw nothing but the ridge to the south. Had it come from there? Vorklaus and his troopers were on alert now, too. Another shot and then several more, definitely from the south. The other side of the ridge, maybe. “Any friendly troops over that way?” demanded Arkadi of the ensign.

 

“Why yes. The whole squadron’s spread out to the south of us in a long arc. The next detachment over ought to be Lieutenant Vorgusson’s. He’s my immediate superior. Sounds like they’ve run into a bit of a fracas, doesn’t it?” The firing was increasing in volume.

 

“Yeah, and he would be the closest help. I don’t like this ensign.”

 

“Don’t worry, we can…” His reply was cut short by the sound of a horn up on the ridge to their right. “That’s not one of our bugles…” The man looked anxious now.

 

“A hunting horn. One guess who they’re hunting!” The first horn was answered by another—from ahead and to their left and a moment later by another to their rear. Arkadi twisted around in his saddle and saw a group of horsemen coming down the ridge behind them. Ten or twelve and  a quarter mile back. _Damn! We nearly walked right into them!_

 

“I say! The blighters are all around us!” exclaimed Vorklaus.

 

“No kidding!” cried Sheela. “What do we do?”

 

“Well we… uh, we push right through them, of course! Form up men! Form up! Forward at the canter! Jensen! Sound the rally!” Vorklaus drew his sword and his bugler began tooting on his horn. The rally call would draw any other friendly forces to them, but Arkadi doubted that any close enough to hear would be able to respond. Vorstakof’s hounds would keep help at bay until his wolves could close in on the prize!

 

But in spite of his youthful bravado, Vorklaus’ plan was probably the best, reflected Arkadi. With an unknown number of enemies to the front, rear and sides, stopping or turning aside made no sense. The only thing to do was to head for the nearest help. And with the next closest detachment already engaged, that meant finding the main body of the regiment—somewhere up ahead, presumably.

 

The troopers formed into a wedge-shaped formation with Vorklaus, Piotr, Sheela and Arkadi inside the wedge. At least the enemy couldn’t risk any long-range fire: they might hit the boy by mistake and he was no use to them dead. They were nearly galloping now, the pennants on the lances whipped wildly in the breeze. Arkadi kept a close watch on both Piotr and the woman. He had no worries for Piotr’s ability to stay on his horse, but the woman… she was doing well so far, but he reminded himself that a week ago she’d never even seen a horse in the flesh. But his duty was to Piotr… what if she fell?

 

They thundered down a long slope, angling toward where a road entered a woods. Arkadi guessed that was the road leading to Yardley. Somewhere down that road should be the bulk of the Lancers. But how far down?

 

A shot from behind made him look back. Damn! Their pursuers had closed to just a few hundred yards and they were taking aimed shots, probably hoping to take down some of the escorting troopers. A yell from Vorklaus brought his attention back to the front. A group of horsemen, fifteen or twenty at least had emerged from some fold in the ground and were galloping right across their path! Trying to cut them off from the road. Three hundred yards… two hundred… puffs of white smoke erupted around the group in front. A trooper to his right cried out and tumbled off his horse.

 

“At the gallop… _Charge!”_ screamed Vorklaus, brandishing his saber.

 

Arkadi gave the horse its head, checked to make sure Piotr and Sheela were still with him, and drew his revolver. “Hang on!” he shouted. Around him the lances were coming down to the level… one hundred yards… fifty… the enemy was suddenly _here_ …

 

With a crash of steel they collided. Men and horses screamed and guns banged. A horseman appeared right in front of him with his rifle reversed like a club. Arkadi shot him in the face.

 

And then they were through. A glance showed him that the boy and the woman were still there, another look behind showed a dozen men and horses down, lancers and Vorstakof’s men tangled together. The surviving enemy were turning their mounts to pursue and the other group that had been behind them had almost caught up. “Go! Go!” he cried.

 

They made it to the road and then into the woods. More shots from behind and a man next to him fell. Vorklaus was still with them, his shako missing and blood streaming down his face, but he was grinning like a loon. His saber had blood on it, too. _Your first kill, boy?_ Thought Arkadi insanely. _You’ll feel different about it tomorrow._

 

He turned and fired two shots at their pursuers, but he doubted that he’d hit anything. “Where the hell’s this regiment of yours?” cried Arkadi. The road ahead was empty.

 

“They can’t be far! But those bastards are going to pick us off one by one like this! You go on with the boy! We’ll turn and hold them!”

 

There must be twenty pursuers and only ten troopers left, but Vorklaus was right: it was the only thing to do. He quickly looked at Piotr and Sheela. The boy had a wild-eyed look of terror and exhilaration on his face. The woman was leaning forward with her arms halfway round her horse’s neck. Her expression was entirely terror. “We keep going!” he shouted to them. “No matter what, keep going!”

 

“Troop… Halt!” shouted Vorklaus.

 

“Go!” screamed Arkadi.

 

Immediately there was a burst of gunfire. A bullet zipped past his head and he could hear men and horses screaming behind him. But they kept going, Piotr was beside him, shouting, “Arkadi!”

 

“Keep going!” He reached over and grabbed the bridle of the boy’s horse. _Don’t stop now!_

 

They rounded a turn and just ahead was a solid mass of horsemen filling the road. Blue uniforms, blue and red pennants, the Emperor’s Own Lancers in all their glory. Arkadi reined in his horse and they clattered to a stop just in front of the surprised cavalry.

 

 _“Arkadi!”_ shrieked Piotr at the top of his lungs. “Sheela is down!”

 

He spun around. Sheela wasn’t there.

 

“Her horse went down just as the lancers turned!” cried the boy, tears on his face. “I tried to tell you! You’ve got to save her!”

 

An officer was there, a puzzled expression on his face. “Lord Vorkosigan?”

 

“Yes!” snarled Arkadi. He lunged out and caught the startled officer’s tunic in his fist. “And you guard him with your life, captain! Your life! Now send some of your men to follow me! Your comrades are being butchered just ahead!” Move!”

 

He released the officer and turned his horse and galloped back the way he’d just come. Behind him he could hear shouted commands, ahead of him there was gunfire. Vorklaus was still holding out. Was Sheela with him? Was she alive?

 

He rounded the turn and fifty yards ahead was a mass of dead and struggling horses and dead and fighting men. A few Lancers were huddled behind the bodies of the mounts, using their pistols and carbines against a similar, but larger group just a few yards farther away. The narrow road was clogged with bodies both human and equine. But where in all this carnage was Sheela?

 

As he neared the fighting, suddenly his horse lurched and then collapsed to the ground, throwing him over the saddle and into the mud. He landed and rolled and came up on hands and knees. He scrambled forward to cover behind another horse. “Come on!” he shouted and then looked back.

 

The road behind him was empty. “Son of a…!” he cursed.

 

Unfortunately, the road ahead wasn’t. In addition to the dozen or so men on foot, a new party of horsemen, only five or six thankfully, was galloping up. Arkadi took aim at one of them with his pistol, squeezed the trigger and dropped him out of his saddle. This drew the attention of one of the dismounted men who fired a rifle but missed. Arkadi shot back and the man tumbled backwards out of sight behind a dead horse.

 

But where was… _there_! The white sheepskin coat she’d been given that morning was suddenly visible and he saw her pulling herself out from a tangle of horses and harnesses. She was twenty paces away, right in the midst of the enemy. _Lie still, dammit! Play dead, woman!_

The newly arrived enemy on horseback halted and one of them— _Vorfallon!_ —was shouting angrily at his men, waving them forward. But suddenly he looked past Arkadi and his face twisted in rage. Arkadi looked back and finally, here came the Lancers trotting around the bend. Vorfallon clenched his fists and then waved his men to fall back.

 

As he did so he noticed Sheela, practically at his feet.

 

They both froze in recognition and then Vorfallon began to lean down…

 

 _No you don’t, you bastard!_ Arkadi raised his pistol. He had one shot left and at this range one was all he needed. He squeezed the trigger and…

 

…the hammer clicked down on an empty chamber.

 

 _The shot I fired to signal Vorklaus!_ He’d forgotten! Cursing himself he dropped the revolver and searched the ground for a loaded weapon among the dead lancers. He finally found one, turned…

 

But Vorfallon—and Sheela—were gone. The riders were galloping away, the remaining men on foot were falling back and shooting as they ran. Arkadi turned as the Lancers came to a halt behind him.

 

“Keep going! Chase them! They’ve got the alien woman!” shouted Arkadi, running back to them.

 

But the officer at the head of the column, Arkadi saw that it was the colonel of the regiment, held up his hand. “Have to clear the road first. Can’t get through this mess.” Desperately Arkadi looked back and saw that the man was right. Two dozen horses, some of them still thrashing around and screaming only as wounded horses can scream, blocked the narrow road completely. The woods on either side were a tangle of undergrowth with no easy way through.

 

“Well hurry, dammit! They’re getting away!”

 

A few dozen men dismounted and went to work, dispatching the wounded horses, pulling the wounded men to safety and then dragging the dead, horses and men out of the way. Arkadi frantically worked to help. One of the men was Ensign Vorklaus, dead with a neat hole in the center of his forehead. _Hope they still give you your lieutenancy, boy. You had guts._

 

Finally enough of a path was cleared that horses could get through single file. The leading company trotted off, but almost immediately there was new firing. Word came back that there were still enemy on foot in the woods on either side of the road. The troopers dismounted and drove them out, but by the time they’d cleared the woods the sun was sinking behind the western mountains.

 

“We’ll have to wait until morning,” said the Colonel. “Too damn many of these partisans to go forward in the dark…”

 

“Colonel!” exclaimed Arkadi. “We have to…!”

 

“ _Especially_ with Count Vorkosigan’s son with us, armsman!” He gestured to where Piotr was sitting his horse and looking as frantic as Arkadi felt. “We’re thirty miles into hostile territory and I can’t even send him to the rear until things are secure. I’m sorry about the woman, but my orders put top priority on Lord Vorkosigan. I’m sorry.”

 

“Arkadi! We have to get her back!” cried Piotr. “We _have_ to! She saved my life!” The future count was melting away before his eyes and the little boy was coming through. Tears were streaming down his red face and he was quivering. “Get her back! Get her back! I… I _command_ you!”

 

He sank to one knee. “If you command me, my lord, then I shall obey.” He rose and faced the colonel. “Colonel Vormallas, I put Lord Vorkosigan in your hands and charge you with his safety. If I do not return, see to it that he reaches his father.”

 

The Colonel bowed his head gravely. “I accept your charge with honor, armsman.”

 

“And if I could borrow a horse I would be grateful.”

 

“Certainly. Godspeed, armsman.”

 

 

Chapter 12

 

 

 _There’s something wrong with these damn horses… they keep getting shot…_ Sheela tried to clear her head, but everything was just a blur. The mad flight on horseback, the wild melee with thrusting lances, flashing sabers, roaring guns, and screaming men and then, just when it seemed like they were safe, her horse going down and her colliding with some very hard ground. Her injured knee was in agony again and she had a sharp pain in her wrist where she’d tried to break her fall. The fact that the wrist, along with the other one, was tied tightly to the saddle of yet another horse didn’t help.

 

A prisoner again. This was getting very old. She was surrounded by a small group of horsemen and one of them was leading her horse at a brisk trot. The setting sun was in her eyes and she could hear gunfire behind her. Growing fainter, thankfully. _No, not thankfully! Gunfire means friendly troops._ But it was growing fainter and that meant help was getting farther away instead of closer. What did that mean? Where were Arkadi and Piotr? They weren’t here and she hoped that meant they had gotten away. She could remember seeing them still mounted, still galloping away, as she fell. She hoped they were safe.

 

One of the riders came next to her and she realized it was Lord Vorfallon. He was the one who’d grabbed her up from the ground. At first she’d just been slung across his saddle, face down. She’d nearly vomited in that position, but later he’d handed her off to someone else who’d tied her on this horse. He said something to her, snarled it, really, from the expression on his face, but she couldn’t catch the words.

 

_He looks really pissed…_

 

Yeah, yeah, he would be if Piotr was out of his reach. That was Vorstakof’s last chance and it was gone now. All he had was one rather beat up Komarran woman with a debatable value as a hostage. Any _rational_ man would give up…

 

Somehow she doubted he was going to do that.

 

Vorfallon moved away and the horses began to move faster. The new pace bounced her up and down in the saddle and she gasped at the pain that caused in her knee. They passed small groups of men on foot. Some of them were carrying weapons and there were shouted exchanges, but the horses kept moving.

 

The sun dipped behind the mountains and long shadows reached out to engulf everything. The temperature dropped and Sheela was glad for the sheepskin jacket. It was fully dark when they entered a small village. Sheela had no idea where they were. It could have been the same village where they had spent the night for all she knew. There were a few dozen horses tethered here and there and men in the streets. A house at the far end was on fire, but no one seemed to care.

 

She was untied from her horse and roughly shoved toward one of the larger houses where there were lights in all the windows.

 

_I’ve got a bad feeling about this…_

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Arkadi dismounted at the edge of the woods. He loosened the girth strap on the saddle and tugged the saddle blanket out from under and tossed it aside. He hated riding without it, but the Lancers, true to form, had an elaborately embroidered saddle blanket that would be far too noticeable. He retightened the strap, looked the horse and himself over and decided it would have to do. In the gathering dark there was nothing that screamed: _Imperial Cavalry!_ A closer inspection of the saddle and tack—and the carbine in the saddle sheath—would give him away, but he had no intention of letting anyone get that close. His own clothing was nondescript, and after four days of this, he looked like just another one of Vorstakof’s militia. He hoped.

 

“Arkadi? Are you there?” The tiny thing in his ear startled him as it always did.

 

“I’m here, Danno.”

 

“Any sign of Sheela?”

 

“Not really. I know the general direction they’re going, but that’s all. I wish I’d given her that computer-thing, but she had nowhere to carry it! Piotr has it. If we could just track her like we did before…”

 

“Well, I might be able to help,” said the alien.

 

“How?” asked Arkadi, eagerly.

 

“Our orbit is bringing us right over your area now. I’ve got the ‘scope doing an infrared scan and…”

 

“A what?”

 

“It’s a way of making heat show up as visible light. Warm or hot things will glow in the dark. Warm things like people or animals.”

 

“So you can spot Sheela?”

 

“It’s not _that_ good! It can’t tell one person from another. But what it’s telling me now is that a lot of people and a lot of what I’m guessing are horses are converging on a village about six kilometers—say four miles—west of your current position. Looks like one of the buildings is on fire, too. Not sure what that means.”

 

“That’s the direction the trail was leading. Vorstakoff must be rallying his people there!”

 

“Seems likely. And it’s a good bet they’ll have Sheela with them.”

 

“Thanks, Danno! Thanks a lot,”

 

“You’re really gonna try to get her out of there all by yourself? I’m reading at least fifty or sixty people—not including any that might be inside the houses. And more are still headed that way—although a few seem to be going right on through without stopping.”

 

“The cavalry won’t risk a night attack—not with Lord Vorkosigan there,” said Arkadi. “I’m all there is.”

 

“Well God bless you man! And good luck!”

 

“Thanks,” he said and clicked off. _I’m going to need it._

 

He mounted the horse and then cautiously left the woods. It seemed likely that Vorstakof’s sworn men were all falling back to that village. But the countryside was still crawling with refugees and fleeing militia, scared and trigger-happy. He had to be careful.

 

But he also had to hurry.

 

He didn’t know what Vorstakof hoped to gain from having Sheela. Her value as a hostage was almost nil now. The Emperor wasn’t going to make any concessions to get her back. Right now Dorca had everything he wanted: trade with the aliens and Vorstakof’s rebellion crushed. No, he wouldn’t give an inch for Sheela. Once Vorstakof realized that, the woman’s life expectancy was vanishingly small.

 

So Arkadi had to get her out.

 

It was crazy. In the larger scheme of thing she didn’t matter. _She matters to the boy. Yes, and? And what? Don’t lie to yourself, man. She matters to you, too._ It was true. Damn it, it was true. She did matter to him. It made no sense at all, but she mattered to him.

 

And he’d get her out.

 

He rode west.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“So he’s gotten away?” said Count Vorstakof. The man was sitting in a chair in a house only a little bigger or nicer than the one that Sheela had spent the previous night in. She was sitting in another chair, her wrists still bound, a dozen feet away. Several other men, including Vorfallon, the Count’s son, and that Vorjervis fellow, were in the room, too. There seemed like quite a commotion going on outside.

 

“I’m afraid so, my lord,” said Vorfallon. “The woman says he was with her right up to the point her horse was shot.” _I did?_ Sheela had no recollection of any such conversation, but she supposed it might have happened. “And the men who survived the fight confirmed that a boy was on one of the horses and that he made it down the road that the cavalry came up just a few minutes later.” Vorfallon bowed his head. “I’m sorry, Viktor.”

 

Vorstakof nodded. “You did your best. Everyone did their best. It just… wasn’t meant to be.”

 

“We still have time to make plans…”

 

Vorstakof shook his head. “The only decisions left are when and how.”

 

Vorfallon opened his mouth to say something but then stopped. He looked around the room, clearly agitated, until his eyes fell on Sheela. “The woman may still have some useful information, my lord. If I could question her alone.”

 

A chill went through her. A chill that got colder when Vorstakof turned his eyes on her for a moment. Lifeless eyes. He just made a small wave with his hand and then turned away. Sheela gasped when Vorfallon grabbed her by her bound wrists and yanked her out of her chair.

 

_I’ve got a really bad feeling about this._

He dragged her down a short hallway and into a small room and shut the door behind them. “I really… I really don’t know anything that— _ahh!”_ Without warning he slapped her across the face and she stumbled back against the wall.

 

“I’m perfectly well aware of that,” sneered Vorfallon. “So keep your mouth shut!”

 

_Oh dear…_

The man stalked back and forth, growing visibly angrier with each passing second. “Damn you!” he snarled. “Damn you and all your stinking Komarrans! Do you realize what you’ve done? Do you even care?” Sheela didn’t think he really wanted an answer. She just pressed herself against the wall.

 

“You’ve destroyed him! Destroyed him! Vorstakof was a better man than you can imagine! A great man! Better than Dorca could ever be! And in time the other counts would have realized that, seen Dorca for what he really is, and rallied around Vorstakof! “ The man threw his hands in the air.

 

“And then you came! Looking for nothing but money! And you ruined it all! You ruined _everything_ you damned bitch!” He came forward and slapped her again and she fell to her knees.

 

“He’s too good a man to exact revenge for revenge’s sake, woman!” He glared down at her.

 

“But you’re not.” She said, looking back at him.

 

 A hideous smile creased his face. “No I’m not.” He hauled her to her feet and suddenly there was a dagger in his hand, centimeters from her throat. He leaned closer. “Frightened are you, bitch? Well, I’m not letting you off this easily!”

 

He used the dagger to slice the ropes tying her wrists, but that was only so he could strip off the sheepskin jacket she’d been wearing. He tossed the jacket and the dagger into a corner. Then he stepped forward, grabbed the collar of her borrowed dress with both hands and tore it open.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Arkadi stared through the darkness at the village. Getting here had been ridiculously easy. It appeared that Vorstakof had called in all his household troops—those that were left. Only the shattered remains of the militia still roamed the countryside and their only thought now was to get home again. No one challenged him, although a few might well have relieved him of his horse if he’d given them the chance.

 

The rough ground of the darkened countryside had been a greater threat than the militia and his horse had stumbled several times. But as he neared the village—he was relieved for some reason that it was not the same village they’d sheltered in—he could see many lights in and around the buildings. As Danno had said, one building was burning, although it was nearly out by now.

 

He forced himself to take his time. Getting killed through carelessness wouldn’t do Sheela any good. But at the same time something told him time was short. There were some sentries, but they were widely spaced and he was able to penetrate their perimeter, leading his horse on foot. He left it tethered in an alley and continued alone.

 

It didn’t take long to see that most of the men were clustered around the biggest house. Vorstakof must be there. Was Sheela there, too? Only one way to find out. After a quick study of the layout, he decided to approach through the rear. There was a fenced in yard with a garden that provided a covered approach. He slipped over the fence and silently made his way through the bean poles toward the house. His long knife in one hand and his—reloaded!—revolver stuck in his belt.

 

He froze when he spotted a man sitting by the back door. He watched for a few moments, but the man had his knees pulled up and his head nodded forward. Asleep. Arkadi had to remind himself that Vorstakof’s men had been on the go for as long as him and were probably just as exhausted.

 

But the man was blocking the back door. Kill him? It wouldn’t be a problem, but was it the best plan? He could think of nothing better so he started moving forward. He froze again when he heard a noise. A voice? Perhaps a child? Or a woman? It was off to the left…There was a low addition to the house sticking out in that direction which had several windows. Over there? He eased his way over to the end of the addition and peered around the corner.

 

There was a man standing there and Arkadi tensed. But the man had his back to him and there was the sound of splashing liquid. The man was taking a piss into the hedge. Making an instant decision, Arkadi brought up his knife, stepped forward and slammed the hilt end into the side of the man’s head. He dropped like a stone and lay still. Arkadi held his breath but there was no alarm.

 

But a moment later there was a soft thud from inside the house. He looked down the side of the building and saw a shuttered window with light seeping around the edges. He stepped over the man and moved down to it. The wooden shutters were in need of repair and were loose around edges. He ought to be able to pry them open enough to see…

 

_Sheela!_

 

She was there! Right there! Without a conscious thought, he tore open the shutters and vaulted into the room through the glassless window opening. Knife out, pistol ready.

 

It was her. She was naked to the waist and covered in blood.

 

But it wasn’t her blood.

 

She was rigid as a statue, backed against the wall, her eyes staring at nothing. A small knife was clenched in her quivering fist.

 

A groan made him spin around. Vorfallon was on the floor, his head propped up against the opposite wall. His hands were clasped around his belly and blood was oozing between his fingers. He coughed and blood came out of his mouth. He was staring at Sheela.

 

“It… it seems that I underestimated you… again, milady,” he said in a gurgling voice.

 

Then his eyes closed and his hands fell away and Arkadi could see that the man had been gutted like a fish.

 

He tore his eyes off Vorfallon and went to Sheela. He had to get her out of here and she mustn’t scream. “Sheela? Sheela?” he whispered. “It’s Arkadi. We have to go.”

 

She blinked, twitched, and brought the knife up. Arkadi grabbed her wrist and clapped his hand over her mouth. She struggled for an instant and then her eyes focused on him and she stopped.

 

“It’s me! Not a sound, all right?” She nodded and he let go of her. She didn’t scream, she just looked at the bloody knife and dropped it. Arkadi caught it in mid-air and then stooped and slid it into the sheath in her boot. “You can’t go out in the cold like this…” He looked around and spotted her sheepskin jacket in the corner. He scooped it up and put it on her and then guided her toward the window.

 

Somehow they managed to squirm through together and then he silently led her through the garden and then boosted her over the fence. They made their way along the deserted alleys to where he’d left the horse. He mounted and then pulled her up on the saddle in front of him. She leaned against him and he put an arm around her. With his free hand he turned the horse around and slowly rode out of the village. The sentries he’d eluded earlier were nowhere to be seen and he just kept right on going. Sheela was quivering. Crying maybe. He couldn’t tell.

 

“It’s all right, it’s all right,” he whispered. “You’re safe now.”

 

She clutched him and buried her face against his chest. Yes, she was definitely crying.

 

They rode east.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Count Viktor Vorstakof looked at the body of his old friend. He should have been furious, outraged at what had happened, but he couldn’t summon any anger. It had all spilled out of him over the last few days. Not a drop left. _Anton’s vices came back to bite him at last._ He’d known of his friend’s excesses, even counted on them at times, but he felt no guilt over it. Being a count called for such things. _I just wish you could have made a better end._

 

The men around him were shouting orders, rushing about, trying to find the assassin. He doubted they would.

 

It didn’t matter anymore.

 

“My lord!” cried Vorjervis, coming up to him. “The enemy knows where we are now! We must move at once!” Vorstakof didn’t reply and Vorjervis repeated his exhortation. Didn’t the man realize what must happen next? He turned away from Vorfallon’s corpse and motioned to his chief armsman who came to him immediately.

 

“Gentlemen,” he said to both him and Vorjervis.

 

“My lord?” said the men in unison.

 

“You will find my son and take him away from here. Into the mountains. Guard him, guide him, keep him alive. He won’t want to go, but knock him on the head and tie him to his horse if you have to. Understand?”

 

“Yes, my lord,” said the armsman.

 

“B-but my lord!” cried Vorjervis. “What about you?”

 

“In the morning I will ride out to engage the enemy. There is nothing else left to do.”

 

“But…” Vorjervis looked at him in horror.

 

“I have given you a command. You will carry it out. Immediately.”

 

Vorjervis stepped back, his face quivering in dismay. But then he bowed deeply and fled the room, the armsman following. Vorstakof stood silently before gesturing to another armsman. “Summon my servant,” he said.

 

“At once my lord!” The man hurried off.

 

He walked slowly back into the main room of the house. It was quieter now. The servant arrived and looked at him anxiously. “Kurt, I need the old trunk. I know you brought it along. You know the one I mean.”

 

“Yes, my lord. I’ll get it.”

 

He wandered around the room, afraid to sit down for fear his legs would not get him back up again. A part of him wanted to find his son, give him one last embrace, one last message. But no. it would be too cruel. It was better this way. The other men kept their distance. He could feel their eyes on him. Eventually Kurt came back, lugging the large, old trunk. He set it on a table and opened it and then stepped back.

 

Vorstakof came forward and rummaged through the trunk’s contents. He pulled out a heavy wool tunic of dark green with yellow trim on the collar, cuffs and long tails. A matching pair of trousers followed. And a pair of black boots. He gave them to Kurt. “Have these brushed and polished. I want to look my best tomorrow.”

 

“At once, my lord!”

 

Then he lifted out a fine leather belt with gold stitching and a pair of swords, one long and one shorter. He drew the blades and was pleased that they were still gleaming, without a trace of rust. He put them back and then dug deeper, finally finding what he sought near the bottom. A bundle wrapped in tissue paper. He pulled off the paper and shook out the fabric within. It hadn’t seen the light of day in decades, but it was still as he’d remembered it. Yes. Yes, this was the moment for it. He handed it to the armsman.

 

“Find a staff suitable for this. We’ll need it in the morning.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Get up, my lord! Do you plan to sleep the day away?”

 

Piotr opened his eyes and then sat upright at the sound of that familiar voice. “Arkadi! You’re back!” The armsman was standing in the door of the large tent where Piotr had spent the night. “You’re back!” he shouted again, springing off the cot. “Where’s Sheela? Did you find her? Is she safe?” Arkadi grinned.

 

“Yes and yes. She’s asleep in one of the other tents. Or she was. Your shouting has probably wakened her.”

 

“Is she all right?” Arkadi’s face darkened and it alarmed him.

 

“She’s had a hard time of it, boy. Battered and bruised and she’s seen a lot of things women weren’t meant to see. But she’ll be all right. There’s iron in her, as you know. Just let her rest and don’t be pestering her for stories when you see her! She’ll tell you her tale when she’s ready and not before. Understand me?”

 

“Yes, sir. But how are you?”

 

“Oh, no worse than the last time you saw me. Better really as I’ve got one less thing to worry about and a couple of hours of sleep, too. Getting her back went easier than I’d hoped. I think Vorstakof’s men had just about given up and they weren’t as alert as they should have been. Anyway, I found her and got her away and we made it back a few hours ago. ‘Course the fool pickets nearly blew our heads off when we came out of the dark, but all’s well that ends well, I suppose.” He smiled. “But come on, they’ve got breakfast waiting.”

 

Piotr pulled on his trousers and his boots and then put on the sheepskin jacket he’d worn yesterday and followed Arkadi out of the tent into the sunshine. It was several hours after sunrise and the Lancer’s camp, just beyond the woods where they’d met them, was bustling with activity.

 

“Where is Sheela?” he asked.

 

“That tent over there,” replied Arkadi pointing. “I doubt she’ll wake up for a while.”

 

As the armsman had promised, breakfast was waiting, set out on folding camp tables. Uniformed men were there to serve them and Piotr discovered that he was ravenous. “So what now?” he asked between mouthfuls of groats.

 

“We get you back to your father. That’s the top priority. I’m not sure exactly how that’s going to happen. We’ll have to ask Colonel Vormallus.”

 

And just at that moment, the Colonel approached them. “Ah, good morning, my lord!” he boomed. “And a good morning it is, too! All your party has been returned to you.” He made a formal bow to Arkadi. “Armsman, I congratulate you on your rescue of Lady Vorlahn and I return your charge to you.” He nodded toward Piotr.

 

“What happens now?”

 

“I just now received a message by courier, my lord. The 14th Dragoons are in Yardley and will be moving forward to take over these mopping up operations. My orders are to escort you back to the railhead where you will embark for Vorbarr Sultana. So, we will be breaking camp in an hour or so.”

 

“What about Vorstakof?” asked Arkadi. “He’s just a few miles over that way.”

 

“I’ve sent out scouts, but I rather imagine he’s gone by now. The dragoons will have to take up the hunt when they…”

 

A loud bugle call interrupted him and he looked up. A group of lancers were galloping into the camp. “Excuse me, my lord,” said the Colonel. He walked toward the approaching troopers and Piotr popped up and ran after him. He heard Arkadi sighing loudly behind him.

 

The commander of the group, an ensign, reined to a halt and saluted Vormallus. “Sir! There’s a party of horsemen approaching from the west! About thirty of them, all in a bunch. They are armed, but they are coming slowly.”

 

Vormallus turned to his staff and caught sight of Arkadi. “Vorstakof, do you think? Coming to surrender?”

 

“A possibility, sir. He’s got to know his situation is hopeless now.”

 

“Well! We must give him a proper reception! Lieutenant! Sound the assembly!”

 

In moments the camp was stirred up like a nest of bees. Men running everywhere, horses being saddled, lots and lots of shouting. “You’re welcome to accompany me, my lord,” cried Vormallus over the din. Piotr looked eagerly to Arkadi and the armsman nodded.

 

Men appeared from nowhere to provide them with horses. Piotr was eager to get going, but suddenly Arkadi stiffened and looked back. Piotr turned and saw Lady Sheela coming out of her tent. Amazingly she was wearing a too-large Lancer’s uniform. _What other clean clothes would they have?_ Arkadi glanced at him and then ran over to her. Piotr guided his horse to follow.

 

“What’s happening?” asked Sheela. Piotr looked closely and was shocked to see the bruises on her face. There was a dark scab where her lip had been split. He was furious. _How dare they!_

 

“We think Vorstakof is coming to surrender,” said Arkadi, taking her arm. “You’ll be safe here.”

 

“I want to see.”

 

“But…”

 

“I want to see!”

 

“All… all right. Corporal! Another horse, here!”

 

This was quickly provided and shortly all three of them, surrounded by the regimental staff, were riding out of the camp to where the Lancers were forming up. It was a thrilling sight: six hundred men and their horses, lance points sparkling in the morning sun, the regimental flag blowing the in the breeze.

 

“There they are, sir,” said one of the staff officers, pointing.

 

Coming down the long slope was a group of horsemen. As the ensign had said, there couldn’t be more than thirty of them. The officers all took out their binoculars. “What’s that they’re carrying?” asked Vormallus after a moment.

 

“Not a _white_ flag…” said another.

 

“I’ll be damned,” hissed the Colonel.

 

“What is it?” asked Piotr. The Colonel looked at him and handed him his binoculars. Piotr took them and looked through. The party seemed much closer now. The man in the lead was wearing green and next to him a man held a long pole from which a flag flew. It, too, was green and in its center there was a large yellow rose. Piotr lowered the binoculars and looked at the Colonel.

 

“The flag of the Vorstakofs, my lord. I last saw it when I was an ensign at the Battle of Neshaminy.” He turned to look at Arkadi. “I don’t think he’s coming to surrender.”

 

“Apparently not.”

 

“But he only has thirty men!” protested Piotr.

 

“Well, there are forms to be followed, “ sighed Vormallus. “Lieutenant, send a troop forward to see if they’ll parlay.”

 

“Yes sir!”

 

A few moments later twenty lancers started forward, but they hadn’t gone a hundred yard before there was a single shot from the approaching horsemen, who were now about five hundred yards away. The lancers halted, and then returned to their place in the line.

 

Vormallus sighed again and shook his head. “Major, take the right wing, column of squadrons, and… and do what has to be done.”

 

The major saluted crisply, but his face was set like stone. He turned his horse and shouted an order and then a bugle rang out. The right half of the regiment moved forward and then split into two groups, one group sliding in behind the other.

 

“What… what’s happening?” demanded Sheela.

 

“Vorstakoff won’t surrender,” said Arkadi quietly.

 

“So he’s attacking six hundred men with thirty?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Madness!”

 

Arkadi didn’t answer her.

 

The Lancers moved forward at a trot and Vorstakof’s band came right at them. At two hundred yards there was a horn call from Vorstakof, immediately matched by a bugle call from the Lancers. Both groups broke into a gallop and the distance closed very quickly. The Lancers blocked Piotr’s view and all he could see of the enemy was the green and yellow flag. The lances came down and an instant later there was a shout and a distant crash. The flag disappeared. It looked to Piotr as if perhaps a few of Vorstakof’s men had broken through the first squadron, but nothing broke through the second.

 

The Lancers milled about for a bit and then the bugle sounded the rally and they quickly reformed their ranks. “I suppose I should go forward and see,” said the Colonel heavily. “I’ll be back shortly, my lord.”

 

“I’m coming, too,” said Piotr.

 

“My lord…” began Arkadi.

 

“I must bear witness for the Count, my father—and for the Emperor.”

 

“I… very well.”

 

“I’m coming, too,” said Sheela.

 

“My lady! I don’t…”

 

“I’m coming, too.” The look on her face brooked no argument.

 

So they all rode slowly forward. As they got closer they could see the bodies scattered on the ground. Only a couple of horses had gone down. There were a few Lancers among the bodies, but only a few. Several more men were wounded. The officers were all drawn to one green-clad figure. It was Vorstakof. His sword was in his hand and there was a broken-off lance in his chest. He was very dead.

 

“I don’t understand,” said Piotr. “Why’d he do this?”

 

“Honor demanded it,” said Vormallus.

 

“But he’s dead! He got all his men killed! What was the point?”

  
“Honor…”

 

“But he could have kept fighting! Up in the mountains! He could have held out for a long, long time! Why’d he just give up like this?”

 

“I guess he didn’t want to fight a war like that,” said Arkadi.

 

Piotr shook his head. “If I’m ever in a war I’ll never give up! Never!”

 

“No, my lord, I don’t suppose you will.” Arkadi smiled and gave him a wink.

 

Well!” said Colonel Vormallus. “Now that this sorry business is finished, we can get you home, my lord.”

 

“I think everyone would like to get home, Colonel,” said Arkadi.

 

“Amen to that,” whispered Lady Sheela.

 

 

Chapter 13

 

 

“Congratulations, armsman.”

 

Arkadi turned and smiled as he saw Sheela coming up to him.  He bowed. “Thank you Lady Vorlahn. And may I congratulate you, as well?”

 

“Why? Because of this ‘Vor’ the Emperor has placed in front of my name? It’s just three letters! _You_ got a real medal!” She laughed and pointed to the decoration pinned to his best brown and silver Vokosigan House uniform. They were in the Emperor’s palace and, amazingly, alone for a moment in an afternoon of ceremonies that had packed the place with guests and servants.

 

“Most men would trade a hundred medals for those three letters, my lady. Medals get given out all the time, but commoners are made Vor very, very rarely. And for a woman to made Vor, well!”

 

She laughed again. “Well, we both know that the only reason he did it was because I’m leaving tomorrow. He won’t have to put up with an uppity Vor woman for long.” Looking at her he had to admit that she certainly looked the Vor woman at the moment. Countess Vorkosigan had pulled out all the stops to outfit the woman who had saved her son. _She’s beautiful…_

 

But Arkadi’s good spirits faded. “So you are leaving?” The idea made him very… sad.

 

“I have to! I have so much going on I have to attend to. I was gone far longer on this voyage than I ever intended to already. My friends and family are probably very worried about me.”

 

“’Friends and family’? A husband? Lovers?” She’d never mentioned a thing about her life back on Komarr. “How many children had you produced in those bizarre tanks of yours?”

 

“None, none and none, armsman. But I do have parents and grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins and a brother. Plus a few friends. And duties and responsibilities.”

 

“Yes, of course.”

 

“Oh, don’t give me that look! What would you say if I asked you to get aboard the shuttle and come back to Komarr with me?”

 

“Do you want to ask me?”

 

The question clearly took her by surprise. Her face turned pink and she snorted. “Would you come if I did?”

 

“You know I can’t. I have my duties.”

 

“Yes, of course,” she said, trying and failing to do an imitation of his voice. They frowned at each other for a moment and then she smiled and so did he. “I will miss you, though.”

 

He nodded, but didn’t trust himself to say what he was feeling. Instead he asked: “Will you ever come back?”

 

“I hope I’m able to. Once we get home, back to Komarr, and report the new wormhole route there should be a steady stream of ships coming and going. I’ll try to come back to visit if I can.”

 

“Just to visit?”

 

Sheela’s eyes dropped, but before she could give an answer, their moment of privacy ended.

 

“Arkadi! There you are!” They turned and there was Piotr, his father, the Count, his mother and several others from the household, including Professor Vorserran, who had recovered nicely from his injury on the train, although he still had a bruise on his forehead. The throng converged on them and there were many congratulations given and received. The defeat of Vorstakof’s rebellion had called for an official day of celebration and the Emperor’s Thanks had been bestowed on quite a few people that day.

 

“Armsman Kurzov,” said the Count suddenly and his face had grown stern.”In spite of the fact that you are now a Hero of the Empire,” he nodded at Arkadi’s new medal, “There is still a serious matter that remains between us.”

 

“My lord?”

 

“Even though things turned out well in the end, the fact remains that you deserted your post, convinced or tricked other armsmen to desert their posts, and embarked on an expedition you had been specifically ordered not to undertake. That sort of reckless insubordination cannot be excused. Therefore, I have no choice but to dismiss you from my service.”

 

Arkadi was frozen in shock. He distantly heard Sheela gasp. Dismissed? Kicked out? But… but… what would he do now? But wait, Piotr was trying and failing to suppress a grin and the Countess was hiding her mouth behind her hand… was this some sort of joke?

 

“However,” continued the Count, and it seemed now like even he was trying not to smile, “considering the _reason_ you did all those things, and after receiving permission from the Emperor, I have decided to make you my son’s personal armsman, sworn directly to him, instead of to me.”

 

“Bravo!” exclaimed Vorserran and Piotr gave a very undignified _yippee!_ and stepped forward to hug him. Everyone else was smiling now and he heard Sheela give a delighted squeal from beside him. He’d never been so relieved in his life. His arms instinctively closed around the boy.

 

“Assuming this meets with _your_ approval, of course,” smirked the Count.

 

“Yes, my lord,” Arkadi managed to choke out. “But won’t that leave you with only nineteen armsmen, my lord?”

 

“No, as I said, I consulted with the Emperor and he has seen fit to grant Piotr—due to his important role in suppressing Vorstakof’s treason—the reward of having his own armsman. I will still have the right to my own twenty. Of course, when Piotr inherits the countship—many years hence, we can hope—he will have to figure out how to reduce the number back to twenty—the first of his weighty decisions.”

 

“That’s wonderful, my lord. And thank you, thank you very much.”

 

“No, thank _you_. This does not even begin to repay the debt I owe you—that I owe both of you, for you also saved my son, Lady Sheela.” He bowed to both of them. Sheela turned a bright pink and gave an awkward curtsey.

 

“Of course it doesn’t become official until you actually swear the oaths and all,” continued Vorkosigan. “We will do that back at Vorkosigan House tomorrow. So, for the time being, you are still under my command, Armsman Kurzov. And my last order to you is… take the rest of the day off!”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Seeing the look on Arkadi’s face made Sheela smile broadly. That had been a terrible trick the Count had played on him, but she supposed the result made it worthwhile. The thought suddenly struck her that that also summed up her journey to reach this spot: A series of rather terrible tricks, but a worthwhile result in the end.

 

_Or at least I hope it is._

 

The Count and the other well-wishers finally moved off, leaving her alone with Arkadi again. Well, not exactly alone. There were more people in the broad hallway outside the Emperor’s audience chamber now. After conferring her Vorship—was that a word?—and Arkadi’s medal, there had been a number of other official pronouncements and awards. The military campaign, though brief, had seen a few heroic acts that called for medals and promotions. Young Ensign Vorklaus had been given a posthumous promotion—for all the good it had done him—and  Colonel Vormallus a medal of some sort. And Count Vorstakof’s district had been bestowed on a close political ally of the Emperor’s even though Vorstakof’s son was still unaccounted for. She wondered what sort of future trouble that might end up causing.

 

She and Arkadi had managed to escape from a lot of the pomp and circumstance, but now, apparently, it was finished and the audience chamber was slowly emptying. A number of people—total strangers to her—gave their congratulations as they passed. She nodded and smiled like an idiot. She and Arkadi stood there, awkwardly smiling at each other, too. “Uh, you said there would be music and dancing later,” she finally blurted out. “Where will that be happening?”

 

“Oh! Yes, in the ballroom. That’s over this way, I’ll take you.” After a moment of hesitation, he offered her his arm and she lightly placed her hand on it as she’d seen other ladies do with their escorts and they started down the hallway.

 

“Your knee doesn’t seem to be bothering you, my lady,” said Arkdai after a moment. “Your medical machines are amazing. An injury like that would have kept most people on crutches for a month or more.”

 

Yes, a quick trip back to the ship once they’d been delivered by train to Vorbarr Sultana, had taken care of her injuries. A few hours in the autodoc and a few days rest and her cuts, bruises and damaged knee were all taken care of. “I hope that now that the rebellion threat is past, your Emperor will see fit to spend some money on equipment like that for Barrayar and to train people to use it.”

 

“I’m still amazed that Hugh Lutman is alive. A belly wound like he got at the bridge is almost always fatal, and yet a short stay on your ship and he’s almost well! And one less thing on my conscience, too.”

 

“The men killed on the rescue mission died trying to save the Count’s son, Arkadi, not for you. Do their lives weigh on your soul?”

 

The armsman shrugged. “When you’re in command you bear some responsibility for all the men following you. You can’t help but ask: what if I’d done this instead of that? What if I’d come up with a better plan, or executed the plan better? It makes no sense, but there’s no escaping it either.”

 

“I suppose Vorstakof must have been thinking those same things when he made that last mad charge.”

 

“Belike.”

 

They walked in silence for a moment and then came to the huge double-doors leading into the Emperor’s ballroom. It really was a stunning place: tall polished stone columns, glittering chandeliers, inlaid wood floors, lots and lots of gaudily-clad guests and servants. As promised, a live group of players was providing music. Sheela listened for a moment and frowned. The music sounded familiar, but not quite. Classical, almost Baroque—but different. A sudden realization dawned on her.

 

“You must compose all your own music!” she exclaimed.

 

“Not me,” said Arkadi.

 

“I didn’t mean you personally! But Barrayarans!”

 

“Who else?”

 

Sheela reined in her exasperation. “What I mean is that when the supernova’s radiation fried all of the colonists’ electronics then any stored music would have been lost with everything else. The colonists would have remembered it, but have not had any real way to preserve it or pass it on except by singing or humming. When things settled down enough for people to have time to make music again, all they would have had to go on would have been those ‘traditional folk tunes’! Fascinating!”

 

“I didn’t know you had such an interest in music, my lady.”

 

“Just a hobby, but come on, I want to see some of those instruments close up!” They made their way through the crowd to get close to the musicians. Their instruments, like the music they were producing, were strangely familiar, but different. But the music, itself was wonderful. Sheela noticed that many people were out on the floor dancing now. She watched them for a while, too, glancing at Arkadi from time to time. She dropped a few hints, but he did not pick them up. Finally, she just up and asked him: “Armsman? Would you dance with me?”

 

Arkadi looked incredibly flustered and Sheela almost laughed out loud at the expression on his face. “I…uh… it wouldn’t really be proper, my lady,” he managed to stammer.

 

“And why not?”

 

“Well, now that you’re a Vor…”

 

“Arkadi Kurzov! If you mean to say that you won’t dance with me because of that silly Vor-thing then I’m going to march right over to Emperor Dorca and give the damn thing back to him!” There had been servants circulating with glasses of wine and she’d had a few and was feeling marvelously reckless.

 

Now Arkadi looked like he was going to pass out. “Do I have to make a scene?” she asked.

 

And so they ended up out on the dance floor together. The dances themselves were simple enough—for the most part, there were a few they sat out—and they managed to make it around without embarrassing themselves. Once he got over his initial reluctance Arkadi was a fine partner and he actually seemed to be enjoying himself. Sheela was certainly enjoying herself. She noticed that Ian and Danno, who had both insisted on attending the ceremonies, were having no problem in finding dance partners either. Mr. Weitzl was here somewhere, too, but Sheela hadn’t seen him in hours. Tam had refused to come down from his ship. Well, his loss.

 

“I take it that this business of making you Piotr’s armsman isn’t something that happens very often,” she said while they danced.

 

“I can’t recall of anything quite like it before, my lady.”

 

“But you are pleased?”

 

“Yes, yes I am.”

 

“You really love the little imp, don’t you?”

 

“He’ll be a great man someday.”

 

“That’s not what I asked.”

 

“Well, yes, I suppose I do.” Arkadi looked away as if the admission that he had feelings was embarrassing.

 

“There’s no doubt he loves you in return. Does… does that ever cause any problems between you and the Count?”

 

Now Arkadi looked troubled. “I don’t think… well, I don’t know, really. Of course it’s nothing unusual with the high Vor. They have so many duties, so many responsibilities, that family often has to come second.”

 

“Yes,” said Sheela. “Look, there’s Count Vorkosigan with the Emperor, plotting something new, no doubt, while the Countess is left abandoned. But I suppose it’s the same with ‘great men’ everywhere.” She sighed. “I guess Piotr can count himself fortunate to have a guardian like you.”

 

They continued to dance and Sheela fended off other men trying to cut in on her. She realized that she was flirting with Arkadi, well, more than flirting. And it felt good. She hadn’t done any serious flirting since she was an undergraduate—and certainly never in a setting like this! Ages ago—nearly two weeks now—she’d wondered if she was secretly a romantic at heart. Apparently she was.

 

Arkadi really was a handsome man, brave, courteous… _and he came to find me._ The terrifying moments with Vorfallon would trouble her dreams for years she was sure. But as long as the dreams ended with her cuddled against Arkadi on his horse and him stroking her hair and whispering that everything was fine now, she could live with that.

 

As the evening wore on she murmured in Arkadi’s ear: “I have a room all to myself here in the palace, you know. And you have the night off.”

 

Arkadi was startled. “Are you serious?”

 

“Why not? And don’t you dare say a word about me being Vor and it not being proper! I’m a woman and you’re a man and I’m leaving tomorrow!” _And who knows if I’ll ever be back._

 

He didn’t say yes right away, but he didn’t say no, either. They danced one more time and then wandered out into the gardens. It was getting a bit chilly and Arkadi wrapped an arm around her. It felt very nice.

 

“I was married once…” he started to say.

 

“I know. And I know how it turned out. I’m very sorry.”

 

He looked at her, amazed. “How did you…?”

 

“Piotr told me after… after what happened in the village. Don’t ask me how he knew.”

 

Arkadi was silent for a long time. But he didn’t let go of her. “After… after what happened, the child was a mutie, you see, after that I swore I’d never cause that to happen to a woman again. Men almost always blame the woman, but I knew it wasn’t her fault.”

 

“Well, there’s no worry about that with me. I can’t get pregnant unless I want to.”

 

Arkadi fell silent again, but he continued to hold her. She gently steered him back into the palace and then up a set of stairs.

 

“Come, my gallant armsman, this damsel is in need of rescue again.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Piotr watched the aliens getting their shuttle ready to depart. He was still sad that he hadn’t gotten a chance to ride in it. Well, they—or others—would be coming here again. Perhaps he’d get a chance then.

 

_Don’t be greedy! You have your very own armsman!_

 

They had done the oath-taking that morning in Vorkosigan House. It was official now: Arkadi Kurzov was now his sworn liegeman. And he was his sworn lord. A very serious and grown-up responsibility! Of course he wasn’t supposed to go around boasting about it. Apparently the Emperor didn’t want this sort of thing happening a lot. He guessed he could understand why.

 

He glanced at his new armsman. Arkadi had seemed unusually bleary-eyed that morning and was acting very somber now. Of course he felt sad himself that Lady Sheela was leaving today. He was very fond of her and it was apparent that Arkadi was, too. Well, hopefully she would be back soon.

 

And they could write to her! Sheela had spent the day before yesterday showing him how to use one of those amazing computer pads. She had given him one as a gift and the number of things it could do were amazing. And once there was a regular stream of ships going back and forth between Barrayar and Komarr it would be possible to send messages. The changes that the aliens had brought was just a beginning.

 

There was a stir in the watching crowd as the Emperor emerged from the palace along with the aliens and a host of other people. There was a great deal of hand-shaking and speechifying, but eventually the aliens started to board their vessel. But Lady Sheela searched the crowd and eventually spotted Piotr and Arkadi and came over to them. She was trying to smile, but there were tears in her eyes. She bent over and hugged him and kissed him on the cheek. “You be a good boy and listen to your parents and Arkadi!”

 

“I will. When will you be coming back?”

 

“I don’t know. I’ll try to come and visit if I can.”

 

Piotr found himself choking up, too. “Safe trip home, Lady Sheela. I’ll write to you.”

 

She smiled and nodded and then faced Arkadi. “I have to go now,” she said in a whisper.

 

“I know. Good luck,” replied Arkadi. His face looked very stern.

 

The tears spilled out of her eyes now and she leaned forward and kissed Arkadi. On the lips. Then she spun away and walked very quickly to her ship. She got aboard without looking back. After a short wait the shuttle began to give off that horrible shriek that it made. The Emperor’s armsmen herded him and his party farther away and many of the other people also stepped back. But Piotr and Arkadi held their ground. Then there was a spray of dust from underneath and the vessel rose up into the air. Many of the watchers had never seen this before and there was a considerable outcry.

 

But the shuttle rapidly dwindled until it was just a bright speck in the sky and this quickly vanished, too.

 

Piotr watched for quite a while after there was anything to watch. He glanced at Arkadi but the man hadn’t moved at all.

 

“Are you in love with Lady Sheela?” asked Piotr.

 

Arkadi didn’t answer—but there was a gleam of tears in his eyes, too.

 

 

Chapter 14

 

 

 

“Doctor Lahn? Doctor Lahn!

 

Sheela turned at the shout and saw one of her students trying to overtake her through the crowded corridors of Solstice University. She stopped and waited until he caught up. “Hello Jerrold. What can I do for you?”

 

“Great lecture today, Doctor!” gasped the boy. “I was… I was wondering if I could get you to autograph a copy of your book?” He held out a computer pad with the title page of her book _The Rediscovery of Barrayar,_ on the screen. She smiled and took the pad and the proffered stylus and signed her name.

 

“Thank you, Doctor!”

 

“You’re welcome. But if you _really_ wanted to butter me up you should have asked me to sign your _textbook_.”

 

The boy blushed. “Well, I wanted you to sign something I might actually _read_.”

 

Sheela laughed. “All right! Extra points for honesty!” The boy thanked her again and hurried away. By this time most of the crowd had dispersed and Sheela walked back to her office. She was done for the day. The fame from the successful trip to Barrayar had not only restored (or made) her reputation, but gotten her a teaching and research position at Solstice University—and a very nice office. Most of her work was in astrophysics, but she also taught one xenosociology class about Barrayar. It was an undergraduate course that her colleagues had dubbed: ‘ _Sheela’s Adventures on Barrayar’_ which it very nearly was, she supposed. No matter, it was fun.

 

She sat down at her comconsoles and took care of some routine administrative matters. One personal message caught her attention. Ah, her quarterly payment statement. In spite of Mr. Weitzl’s gloomy forecasts, there was money being made off the new wormhole route to Barrayar. Not the huge sums that might have been made from a rediscovered route to Escobar (which a different exploration company had just opened up last month—much to Tam Hodgkin’s annoyance) but still a sizeable amount. Sheela’s five percent share of that came to a respectable payment. Added to her normal salary she was doing very well. And the payments would only get bigger as time went by and more and more trade with Barrayar occurred.

 

One notation on the statement caught her eye: Payment #012. _Twelve payments? It’s been three years already? How did the time fly by so fast?_ It didn’t seem possible. She sighed and called up some of the messages she’d gotten from Piotr and Arkadi. Message service to and from Barrayar was somewhat erratic with waits from weeks to months depending on shipping schedules, but the messages did get through eventually. She noted sadly that even though the service was getting quicker and more reliable, the number of messages between her and her friends had been steadily declining. The last one from Piotr contained a picture and she was amazed at how the boy had grown.

 

_I really ought to plan a visit. Maybe after the end of this semester. I can afford it._

 

She closed down her comconsoles and left the building. As she often did she spent some time in the University’s gardens. They were nice and they did have some mature trees soaring up toward the barely visible dome overhead. This place, along with a few of the other large parks in the city, were the only places she really felt comfortable anymore. It was absurd to think of a native Komarran being claustrophobic, but there it was. She wanted to see forests and mountains again! Komarr did have a few regions that almost qualified as mountains. But there were no forests—and wouldn’t be for three hundred more years.

 

_Yes. Yes, at the end of the semester I’ll go!_

 

Feeling a bit better at her resolution she made her way home on foot. The bubble car system made her uncomfortable, too. She ate a solitary dinner and then sat down at her home comconsole and began to plan out her trip. There was no scheduled passenger service to Barrayara yet, but it was often possible to book passage on a cargo ship.

 

She had barely started when there was an incoming message. Her eyes widened when she saw it was from Mr. Weitzl. What the hell did he want? Only one way to find out. She hit the _accept_ key and the little man appeared on her screen.

 

“Ah, Doctor Lahn, I was hoping to find you home,” he said. “I hope you are well?”

 

“Yes, fine. And you?”

 

“Quite well, thank you. But I don’t want to waste your time, so I will come right to the point: would you be interested in selling your share of the Barrayar wormhole fees? I can make you quite a handsome offer.”

 

“Uh…”

 

“It’s a very generous offer.” He named a sum and Sheela’s eyes got wide. Doing some quick math in her head she saw that it was two or three times the estimated return on her share for the rest of her life—even if she lived quite a long time.

 

“But… why?”

 

“Well, it’s business, you know,” replied Weitzl in an offhand fashion. “These things happen. An investor thinks he sees a way to increase the return, wants to get into the game and is willing to pay. But these things are always risky, as likely to turn a loss as a profit. But for you it is a huge opportunity, Doctor Lahn. A sum like this could be reinvested and set you up for life.”

 

“Yes, I guess it could!”

 

“So are you interested?” The man looked very eager.

 

“I… I’ll have to think this over.”

 

Weitzl frowned. “I was hoping for an answer today.”

 

“I’m not sure I can give you one today, Mr. Weitzl.”

 

“The man I represent is very eager to proceed. And there are other people he can make this offer to.”

 

“Be that as it may, I want to sleep on this. Can you call me back tomorrow?”

 

Weitzl did not look happy and he tried to change her mind for several minutes, but she stood her ground. “Very well, Doctor Lahn, I will call again tomorrow—assuming no deal is reached with anyone else.” He clicked off and the screen went blank.

 

_Well isn’t that peculiar?_

 

She called up a business news site and did several searches, but she couldn’t find anything that would account for some sudden increase in the value of her share. And clearly Weitzl—or whoever he was representing—thought that share was going to become much more valuable.

 

Not that it really mattered, she supposed. Money had never meant all that much to her and she was already very comfortable. If she took his offer she would be more than comfortable. What would she do with all that money? Reinvest it? In what?

 

_How about Barrayar?_

 

Going back to the information net she called up as much information as she could about what was going on with Barrayar as far as trade and investment were concerned. She saw that quite a lot of weapons were being purchased by the Emperor. Some basic technologies, too, computers, industrial equipment. _What about medical equipment?_ She still had nightmares about that poor baby girl. Was anything being done to improve Barrayar’s medical technology? Not much that she could see. An idea started taking shape in the back of her head.

 

What if she took Weitzl’s offer and then used the money to set up a hospital on Barrayar? A real hospital? Perhaps with a small medical school as part of it? Yes! She started getting excited.

 

_But what is Weitzl really up to?_

 

The thought intruded on her planning. She dithered for a bit, got herself a cup of tea, and then sat back down and did a person-search on the information net. She quickly found that Tam Hodgkins was off-planet, as was Danno. Not surprising about Danno: jump pilots have to jump. But wait, Ian Cummings was on Komarr. She placed a call and he answered.

 

“Sheela!” he exclaimed. “I was just thinking about you!”

 

“Really? Why? Did the Weasel call you, too?”

 

Ian looked surprised and then nodded. “Just got off the com with him. Was he trying to buy your share, too?”

 

“Yes. I stalled him. What about you?”

 

“Well, it is a hell of an offer. I could buy my own ship for that much! But no, I figured he must be up to something, so I put him off, too. Is that why you called?”

 

“Yeah. Something seems odd about this. I was wondering if you had any idea what was going on.”

 

“Not a clue,” said the engineer, shaking his head. “But it’s got to have some sort of business angle. I’ve got a cousin in the Senate’s Commerce Department. Maybe I’ll give him a call and see what he knows.”

 

“All right. If you find anything out let me know, okay?”

 

“Will do. And it’s good to see you again, _my lady_.” He grinned.

 

“Good to see you, too, Ian. Talk to you later.”

 

Nothing happened for the next several days except for frequent calls from Weitzl. He really wanted her share. And the more he wanted it, the more she was determined to find out why. At the same time she continued to make plans for what to do with all that money if she did finally accept his offer. She contacted the University medical school and various hospitals and clinics to see if there was any interest in a hospital on Barrayar. Results were lukewarm, but that was to be expected with a new idea like this. And her research was teaching her a lot about portable medical gear.

 

Five days after she’d talked with Ian, she got a call back. The man seemed furious. “Well!” he began without preamble, “I think I know what the little rat is up to!”

 

“Really? What?”

 

“You know how he was constantly bitching and whining about what small potatoes the Barrayaran run was going to be?”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“He was looking for some huge payoff all at once instead of a steady return like what we’ve got. Well, it looks like he—or someone, I’m not sure who’s really behind this—has figured out a way to do that!”

 

“What?” snorted Sheela, “Did he find some sucker willing to buy the whole planet?”

 

She’d meant it as a joke, but Ian wasn’t smiling. “In a way, that’s exactly what he did, yeah.”

 

“What? Who? How?”

 

“The Cetagandans.”

 

 _Oh… My… God…_ A shudder went through her. The Cetagandan Empire was the largest and most powerful political entity in the wormhole nexus. They had a bizarrely structured social and political system with a genetically engineered ruling glass called the _haut_ and a military sub-caste known as the _ghem_. How it all worked was a mystery to the rest of the galaxy, but one thing was abundantly clear: from time to time the Cetagandans went into conquest mode and unleashed the _ghem_ against some target. Komarr was uncomfortably close to the Empire and had been forced to play a delicate game with them for centuries to maintain their independence.

 

“But… but the Cetagandans can only get to Barrayar by way of Komarr!” she protested. “How could the Senate allow that?”

 

“Well, that’s the real trick, isn’t it?” said Ian. “I got this from my cousin. There’s a sub-committee in the Senate debating the issue right now. It’s all top secret, of course. The rumor is that the deal—if one can be made—would involve passage of a Cetagandan invasion force in return for massive trade concessions throughout the whole Cetagandan empire. The total value of a deal like this could be in the trillions. And that stinking Weasel thinks he can swindle us out of our share!”

 

Sheela looked at Ian in shock. He wasn’t pissed off about selling out the Barrayarans, he was pissed off about losing a chunk of the profits! And she thought she knew the man…

 

“So, my advice to you, girl, is to hang onto those shares! My cousin thinks that the negotiations over this might take years. Even if you do decide to sell, wait for a bit and soak the bastard good! Me, I’m holding on to mine!”

 

She was scarcely listening anymore. An invasion. An invasion of Barrayar. A fleet of modern warships in orbit, raining down fire on defenseless targets, hundreds of thousands of assault troops dropping out of the sky to vaporize the imperial armies, still mostly armed with gunpowder rifles and cannons. She remembered the vids of all those weapons she’d shown the Barrayarans, but the weapons would be in the hands of the invaders. And the Vor, the Vor wouldn’t surrender. They’d fight. Just like Vorstakof. A hundred suicide charges. They’d throw themselves with swords against men in power armor. They’d fight and they’d die. The Emperor, Count Vorkosigan, Piotr. They’d all die.

 

And Arkadi would die at Piotr’s side…

 

“Sheela? Sheela?” With a start she realized that Ian was still on the com. “You okay?”

 

“Oh, uh, yeah, yeah. Thanks for the information Ian.”

 

“I’m gonna call up all the other people who were on the old _Fool_ and warn them, too, See you later.” He cut the connection.

 

Sheela sat and looked at the blank screen for a long time.

 

What could she do? What _should_ she do? Warn them, of course. Warn the Barrayarans. Warn Arkadi and Piotr. But how? She could send them a message, but if this really was in the works, messages to and from Barrayar were probably already being monitored. And even if she could get something through would it do any good? Would it even be believed? Barrayar did have an embassy on Komarr now but she was sure that it was totally bugged and their communications intercepted. After all, these stupid barbarians wouldn’t know about such things, would they?

 

She stood up and stalked around her apartment, working herself into a rage. How could they? How could her countrymen do such a thing? The Barrayarans needed help! Not an invasion! But it was just business, wasn’t it? Business! She remembered her first day on Barrayar and Arkadi’s disdain at Komarrans’ seeming lack of honor.

 

_He was right. We don’t have any honor._

 

She had to do something. But what? She sat down and tried to think.

 

She was still thinking the next day. And the next and the next.

 

Slowly ideas began to arise. She did research and the ideas gradually became plans. She forced herself not to rush into anything. Ian had said the negotiations could take years. And her research taught her that the Cetagandans planned for the long haul. The invasion—if it happened—might not come for twenty years. She had time. She hoped.

 

The semester ended and she applied for a sabbatical. It was approved, although with some reluctance on the part of the University. She’d only been there for three years, after all.

 

Weitzl continued to badger her and after dropping some hints that she knew he was up to something, she managed to get him to nearly double his offer and she took it. She’d need the cash and she wanted nothing more to do with the man or his blood scheme.

 

She told no one what she was up to. Technically she supposed what she was doing was treason. Or perhaps unethical business practices which was nearly as bad on Komarr. Finally she was ready. She made a call to an old friend.

 

“Hello, Danno.” The jump pilot looked surprised but delighted on the comconsoles screen.

 

“Sheela! How are you girl? Long time, no see!”

 

“Well, who’s fault is that?” she said. “You’re always outsystem!”

 

“True, but I’m back for a few months. How have you been?”

 

“Fine,” she lied. “How about you?”

 

“Good, good. Been doing a lot of interesting jumps, getting to new places. But I’m guessing that you called for something more than to chit-chat. What’s up?”

 

“I know you’ve got a lot of contacts in the shipping industry, Danno. I need to ship me and some cargo somewhere and I’d rather do it… well, quietly.”

 

Danno’s eyes got large. “Where?”

 

Sheela smiled.

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Come on Arkadi! Let’s get going!” Piotr called to his armsman from atop his horse. The man emerged from the stables leading his own horse.

 

“What’s the rush? You’ve still got a month until you report to your regiment. Plenty of time for riding and hiking and camping—not that you won’t get your fill of that with your regiment!”

 

Piotr grinned. He’d be fourteen at the end of the summer and then he’d be reporting to the Emperor’s Own Lancers as a new ensign! He could hardly wait! The letter he’d gotten from their new colonel indicated that he was already considered a veteran due to his presence with them during Vorstakof’s treason. How grand!

 

But today’s ride had nothing to do with that. Today was going to be special. “I have a surprise for you, Arkadi,” he said. “And we mustn’t be late!”

 

“A surprise? What sort of surprise?” asked Arkadi as he swung up into the saddle.

 

“You’ll see.”

 

“Great. What are you up to now?”

 

“You’ll see!”

 

They rode out from Vorkosigan Surleau and headed down the shores of the Long Lake. It was a beautiful summer day and Piotr’s spirits only grew more buoyant as he imagined the scene ahead. Oh! This was going to be wonderful! He spurred his horse into a trot and Arkadi complained as they bounced along.

 

“Spare my old bones!”

 

“You are not old! Stop using that as an excuse!”

 

“I’m older than you and always will be. Show some respect for my gray hairs.”

 

“I’ve always respected each and every one of them.”

 

“As well you should, considering you gave me most of them.”

 

Piotr just laughed and broke into a gallop for a bit on a long level stretch of shoreline. He reined in as he reached their destination, a wide open area in the woods that lined the lake. They often used it as a picnic spot. He pulled out his computer pad and checked the time. Perfect! He dismounted and led his horse to the tree line and tied it there. Arkadi did the same, a puzzled expression on his face.

 

“What’s this all about? We didn’t bring a lunch.”

 

“You’ll see.”

 

“You keep saying that! I’ll see what?”

 

“That!” said Piotr pointing skyward. Arkadi looked up and gasped. A silvery speck had appeared in the sky and it was growing larger rapidly. Unlike the first shuttle to ever land at Vorkosigan Surleau, this one was nearly silent. There was a bit of a hum, but that was all. It dropped straight down at what seemed a frightening rate, but then abruptly slowed and landed gently as a feather fifty yards in front of them. He glanced at Arkadi and his mouth was hanging open. But his hand was on his revolver.

 

“It’s all right, Arkadi,” said Piotr. “There’s no danger.” He started forward and his armsman followed, still gaping.

 

The door on the side of the machine was swinging open. A figure stepped out.

 

“Sheela!” hissed Arkadi.

 

“Sure is!” chortled Piotr. “Surprised?”

 

Lady Sheela had a large smile on her face but suddenly she was running forward and so was Arkadi and they collided with a thud he could hear. Their arms were around each other and they were locked in a kiss. Piotr walked up next to them with a huge grin.

 

After quite a while they pulled apart, both their faces were flushed.

 

“Welcome to Barrayar, Lady Vorlahn,” he said, making a bow. “You do remember me, don’t you?”

 

“Piotr!” she cried in delight. “My God, look how you’ve grown!” Arkadi released her and she gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. She didn’t need to bend down at all.

 

“But… but… what are you doing here?” stammered Arkadi, looking totally gobsmacked.

 

Lady Sheela’s expression became more serious. “It’s a long story. But first, could you help me unload my stuff? The shuttle is here illegally, as you must know, and doesn’t dare to stay grounded long.”

 

“Yes, all incoming shuttles have to land at Vorbarr Sultana, how did you…?”

 

“Explanations later. Help me with this stuff,” commanded Sheela.

 

“Yes, milady.”

 

A larger hatch was swinging open on the side of the shuttle and there was a compartment filled with boxes. All three of them started hauling them out. Sheela had several amazing little things that floated in the air and were like wagons without wheels. The larger crates were already stacked on them and they just towed them out like a boat on water! Finally they had them all out and only moments later the shuttle took off and was quickly gone.

 

“So what is all this stuff?” asked Arkadi. “Your luggage? Are you going to stay?”

 

“I think I will be staying, yes,” she said with a smile. The smile on Arkadi’s face was unbelievable. Piotr’s own face was starting to ache with all the smiling he’d been doing. “But _that’s_ my luggage,” she said, pointing to one modest sized trunk. “The rest is equipment.”

 

“Equipment? What sort of equipment?” asked Arkadi.

 

“Medical mostly. I’ve got a couple of portable autodocs, gene scanners, automated pharmaceutical factories, uterine replicators, lots of computers, all kinds of stuff, really.”

 

“You, you’re planning to start a hospital or something?” asked Piotr. When he’d gotten the message from Lady Sheela she’d only said she was coming to visit and she wanted to surprise Arkadi. She’d said nothing about this!

 

“Well, yes, but not with this stuff,” she replied. “But this is going to be a long story. Why don’t we sit down in the shade over there and I’ll try to explain.” Her face had become much more serious, almost grim. What was the matter? They moved over near the horses and sat down. Lady Sheela was wearing Barrayaran-style clothing, he noticed. And she’d let her hair grow long.

 

She sat on the ground and hugged her knees up to her. Arkadi was right next to her. “Sheela, what’s wrong?” he asked.

 

“I made a horrible mistake,” she said. “I didn’t intend to, but it’s still my fault and I hope you can forgive me.”

 

“What? What did you do?”

 

“I found the way back to Barrayar. I rediscovered your planet.”

 

“But… but what’s wrong with that?” asked Piotr. “I mean I guess it caused Vorstakof to do what he did, but that’s hardly your fault!”

 

“No, but this is worse. I’m bringing some really bad news Piotr. Worse than you can imagine.”

 

“What? What could be that bad?”

 

She bowed her head and then raised it again. “Barrayar is going to be invaded.”

 

“By Komarr?” snorted Arkadi. “Let them come!”

 

“Even a Komarran invasion would be bad enough,” she said sternly. “They… we aren’t all cowards and shopkeepers you know!” She stared at Arkadi and he dropped his eyes.

 

“No, of course not. Forgive me.”

 

“But if not Komarr, then who?” demanded Piotr.

 

“The Cetagandans. You might have come across them on the computer I left you, Piotr.”

 

“I think I might have read something… but what…?”

 

“They’re big. A big empire, Piotr. Eight fully populated worlds and a half dozen other lesser colonies. Billions of people. They have a big fleet and a big army and they are negotiating with Komarr for the rights to invade Barrayar. I couldn’t believe it when I found out. So I’m here to warn you.”

 

“We will fight them!” cried Piotr, both scared and defiant.

 

“When are they coming?” asked Arkadi who was scanning the skies anxiously.

 

“Oh, not any time soon, I don’t think,” replied Sheela. “A few years at least. These things take time. And there’s a faint possibility they might not come at all. But you have to prepare.”

 

“We’ll fight them!” declared Piotr again.

 

“I know. I know you will. But you can’t win, Piotr.  Not in a stand-up fight. There are too many of them. They are too strong. Remember Vorstakof’s last charge? It would be like that all over Barrayar.”

 

A chill went through him. Could that really happen? It didn’t seem possible!

 

“We need to get word of this to the Count, and the Emperor,” said Arkadi urgently. “I’m sure they’ll want you to come to Vorbarr Sultana right away and…”

 

“No.” The look on Sheela’s face was hard as stone.

 

“What?”

 

She held up a computer pad. “Everything I know about this, plus a long list of suggestions for action are on this. Get this to your father, Piotr.” She handed it to him. “But I can’t go or meet with him.”

 

“Why not?”

 

“I’m not here, Piotr. I was never here. The plans for this invasion are still secret, even on Komarr. But there are people on Komarr who know that I know this. And there are Galactics all over Vorbarr Sultana now. If word should get back that I’m here, I’m afraid that people will put two and two together and suspect that I’ve come to warn you. I don’t know what might happen then. They might speed up their plans and invade sooner—before you could prepare at all—or they might even come and try to take me back. I have to remain here in secret.”

 

Piotr was stunned. He’d never expected anything like this! He wished his father was here.

 

“So what will you do?” asked Arkadi. “What should _we_ do?”

 

Sheela shook her head. “I’m no general. Honestly I don’t see how you can possibly make yourselves strong enough to defeat an invasion in the time you’ll have. But there may be some things you can do. Import more weapons. Maybe buy a few ships of your own. Prepare places of refuge with scanner scramblers so they can’t find you so easily. Stockpile supplies. Make evacuation plans. It’s all on the computer I gave you. Most importantly, make some allies. The Cetagandans are powerful and that scares a lot of people. There’s a loose alliance of worlds that tries to keep them in check. Beta Colony is the chief among them. Maybe they can help. I don’t know.”

 

“But what about you?” asked Arkadi. “You say you are staying? But if you want to stay secret, where will you go?”

 

“I’m not sure,” she said. “I want to help the people here. That’s why I brought all the medical gear. But this is just a part of what I’ve planned. I made quite a lot of money from discovering the way here. Not enough to buy you a fleet of battleships, unfortunately, or even one, but still quite a lot. All the gear you see here didn’t even make a dent in what I’ve got. I’ve set up a corporation back on Komarr. It will be coming here soon to build a real hospital and a medical school in Vorbarr Sultana—assuming the Emperor will give his permission, of course.”

 

“I can’t imagine him refusing…”

 

“I’m hoping that the medical school can expand to a university in time. But I’m also thinking that this corporation can become a pipeline, of sorts, for you to bring in the other things you’ll need to prepare for the invasion. Maybe a pipeline to get information out, too. As a Komarran company, the Cetagandans might let it stay in operation even after they get here.”

 

“Clever,” said Arkadi.

 

“I hope so. But as for me, well, I was thinking that I could go up into the hills, where the really poor people live and set up a clinic or two. It will only be a very small drop in a very big bucket, but I could try.”

 

Piotr stared in shock and consternation. “But… but you can’t go out there alone!”

 

“Well, I was hoping that someone might come with me.” She looked at Arkadi and then back at him. Piotr felt like someone had punched him in the belly. Tears started in his eyes. Did she really mean…?

 

“Ar-arkadi?” he stuttered. “Do you… do you want this?”

 

The look on his face told him that he wanted it very much. But also that he was as torn as Piotr felt.  “I am sworn to you, my lord. I won’t break that oath.”

 

“But do you _want_ it?”

 

Arkadi bowed his head. “Yes my lord. And we both owe it to her.”

 

Piotr sprang up and turned away. No! This wasn’t what _he_ wanted! Arkadi had been his protector for as long as he could remember. _You’ll be an ensign in a month. One of the Emperor’s officers! You’ll be expected to take care of yourself._ He turned back. “Would… would I still see you? From time to time?”

 

“I would imagine,” said Arkadi. He looked to Sheela.

 

“I’ll need to store all this gear here for a while at least,” she said. “And we’ll have our computers to send messages. I’m sorry, Piotr, I didn’t come here to take away your friend.”

 

 _But you are taking him away!_ A huge surge of anger and resentment filled him. How could she do this?

 

_This isn’t about you. It’s about them._

 

His anger faded. Arkadi had served him for years and never asked for anything beyond the honor. Now, at last, he was asking for something for himself. _How can you refuse him?_ Honor had to work both ways…

 

“V-very well,” he said, trying to keep control of himself. “Arkadi Kurzov, I release you from my service.” In spite of himself, tears rolled down his cheeks.

 

Arkadi looked like he’s been slapped. He went to his knees and bowed his head. “Thank you, my lord. But the Vorkosigans may always call on me and I will come if I can.” He rose up and took Sheela’s hand.

 

“Thank you, Piotr,” said Sheela. Her eyes were glistening, too. “But we need to keep this a secret. Even from your father—although I’m sure he’ll suspect. Just give him the computer and tell him that I came here, explained the situation, gave you the computer and then left again.”

 

“Yes my lady. I give you my name’s word that I’ll never tell a soul.”

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Arkadi turned in his saddle and looked back at Vorkosigan Surleau. It looked different somehow. _It’s not different, you are._ He couldn’t believe he was doing this. He’d spent most of his adult life serving the Vorkosigans and with hardly a second’s thought he’d given that up. And yet… and yet, he knew he’d done the right thing. He couldn’t ever remember being so sure of anything.

 

“What was that about Piotr’s ‘name’s word’ that he said back there?” asked Sheela. She was riding next to him and seemed at ease in the saddle.

 

“What? Oh, it’s an oath. He’ll die before he breaks his word. It’s a Vor thing.”

 

“Oh, a _Vor_ thing!” she laughed. “All those Vor things to learn about. Except I can’t be a Vor anymore.”

 

“Well, you can’t be Lady Vorlahn anymore, that’s for sure. That would be too obvious.”

 

“So how about just plain Sheela Kurzov? How do you folks get married around here anyway?”

 

“It… it’s pretty simple,” replied Arkadi, feeling rather stunned. “We just need to go to a village speaker and he can do it. Do… do you want to?”

 

“I thought I was pretty clear, wasn’t I?” she asked smiling. “But yes, yes, I want to.”

 

“All right. We can take care of it when we get there.”

 

“There? And just where are we going?”

 

“Well, I was thinking that it would be a whole lot easier starting out somewhere where we aren’t complete strangers. There’s a fellow I met while I was in the army. Name’s Payne. He was older than me and is retired now. He’s got a farm up in the hills. Little village named Red Rocks. Seems like it could be a good place to start out.”

 

Sheela halted her horse and turned it so she could look out on the Long Lake and the setting sun. He stopped beside her. “Yes, a fresh start,” she whispered. “What a beautiful place!”

 

He leaned over and kissed her.

 

“Welcome to Barrayar.”

 

 

 

 

The End

 

 


End file.
